“…In the name of God, in the name of this suffering people whose cry rises to heaven more loudly each day, I implore you, I beg you, I order you: stop the repression.”

I had studied abroad in Nicaragua and El Salvador learning about the revolutions in the 70/80s that were so famously undermined by the US, so I was curious to hear what our episode subject, Nelson Escobar, had to say. He didn’t want to talk much about the time period. He alluded to his work with Romero, and how he left the Catholic service after the bishop was shot to fully engage in the revolution. He wasn’t a “guerillero” (guerilla) per se, but suggested that he was fully involved with the liberation movement.

Despite Nelson’s unwillingness to expound on his past, the ideas of Romero and the Latin American faith in the cooperative model, still rang true in his words and the work that he was doing in Louisville. I was inspired by him and his passion as well as that of his friend and co-worker Elmer.

[Originally posted on Oct 21,2011. Updated March 23, 2012]

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 I’m not eating at a fast food joint. Their decor 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 motto is “Food with Integrity” (it’s right there when you pull up the website), and they pride themselves on working with small farmers (when they can) and providing good, local, farm-supporting food. And it tastes good. So, we pulled off of interstate 41 without any guilt and stopped in for a quick bite.

I got what I usually get: veggie bowl with lots of rice, topped with a little bit of black beans, cheese, lettuce and their mild salsa chocked full of red tomatoes, onions and herbs. And I usually swing for some guac on the side. Maybe it was the oppressive heat outside that made my shirt stick to my back, or my premonition of a long day of filming ahead, or it could have been because deep down, somehow I knew that this would be my last veggie bowl at Chipotle for a long time…but I cleaned my plate.

And then we drove to Immokalee, Florida — the state’s largest farm worker community. In Immokalee the per capita income is only $9,700/year, half the people in town live below the federal poverty line, and the area has seen many cases of “modern day slavery” (meaning farmers holding people against their will, forcing them to work, beating or killing them if they tried to escape, and knowing that they can have this control over them because the workers don’t have any means to save themselves). As Barry Estabrook wrote in his book, Tomatoland: “Any American who has eaten a winter tomato, either purchased at a supermarket or on top of a fast food salad, has eaten a fruit picked by the hand of a slave. That is not an assumption, it is a fact (Douglas Molloy, US Attorney for Florida’s Middle District).” “Immokalee,” as Estabrook continues. “Is the town that tomatoes built.”

We drove in around 3pm and went to the small, nondescript Coalition of Immokalee Workers (CIW) office building that had been painted the strange off-yellowish color that many buildings in Florida sport. It was like a scene from a Mexican folk movie: a man sitting outside on a fold up chair listening to Mariachi music blaring through the windows while stray chickens roam the streets outside and do their best to stay out of the path of little Mexican or Guatemalan boys racking up their own point system by kicking a ball back and forth. We were there to meet up with our film subject for the day: Lupe, an immigrant from Guatemala who, like the other farm workers, lives in this town during tomato season, and then moves north to find other work in the fields. Lupe’s husband has been in Northern Florida since May (the last time she saw him). So for now, she lives with her 8 year old son and another family in a (barely 2 bedroom) labor camp trailer. The trailers are small, poorly made boxes with a tiny shared kitchen (a stove, fridge and sink). The kitchen is too small for more than 3 people to be in at one time, and yet 7 people crammed in their the evening we arrived. The little bedrooms house two mattresses and multiple people who pile in at night. One room was for a mother and her 4 daughters. Lupe, whose daughter lives in Guatemala and whom she hasn’t seen in 11 years, sleeps in a room only with her son. The labor camps are dotted throughout the little town of 15,000, and to live in them, the rent is steep: up to $400/week for a trailer. A ridiculous amount for farm workers who make (on a good day) $50.

And the good days are for only a couple months out of the year, and even then there is little consistency. Workers line up every morning at 4am in the parking lot of a local “Fiesta” grocery store waiting for buses to pull in looking for labor. Men and women will wait all day if need be. Many go home empty handed, hoping that the next day will be luckier. On rainy days, there will be no work for anyone. Crew leaders (those who round up the laborers and bring them to the farmers) have been known to hold back paychecks, sexually harass the women or limit their access to work.  When we asked Lupe why they do this, she answered “because they can.”

And that’s all before getting to the farm. Once you’re there, it doesn’t get easier. We weren’t permitted on the farms to see the actual work, but Lupe told us how laborers will spend all day in the fields picking tomatoes in the hot, hot heat. Before CIW came along, workers often had no access to water and no breaks.  In some ways, things have improved slightly, however each bucket of tomatoes a worker fills (roughly 32-35 lbs) still gets them around only $0.45. Forty Five Cents. And they are picking green tomatoes — as in, tomatoes that are not ripe. If you live in Florida and ever find yourself behind a tomato truck, you probably wouldn’t know it as the fruit is completely unrecognizable. The tomatoes are picked green so that they can be gassed with chemicals to turn red and then shipped to other areas of the country.  Ever notice how a fresh tomato tastes totally different from those bought in the winter? That’s why. Or at least that’s one reason.

But back to the workers. The Coalition of Immokalee Workers is doing their best to make conditions better, by “training local, state, and federal law enforcement to investigate, uncover, and prosecute existing slavery operations, in addition to working to eliminate the root causes of the problem: farm workers’ structural powerlessness and grinding poverty.” (Grist)  Beyond helping them to know their rights, CIW also created the Campaign for Fair Food asking the major tomato purchasers in this country (fast food chains, grocery stores) to pay a penny more per pound for tomatoes, and asking farmers to put that penny towards the workers. So a 32lb bucket of tomatoes harvested by a worker would result in $0.80, instead of the current $0.45. That would mean a huge increase in wage for that worker.

The Campaign doesn’t stop there, CIW also asks the major food purchasers to work with agricultural suppliers that adhere to the CIW first ever Code of Conduct, which looks out for worker rights, and creates market incentives for those suppliers willing to respect their worker’s human rights, even if those rights are not guaranteed by the law. And lastly, they ask for 100% transparency for their tomato purchases in Florida. In November 2010, the CIW and the Florida Tomato Growers Exchange signed an agreement to extend the CIW’s Fair Food principles – including a strict code of conduct, a cooperative complaint resolution system, a participatory health and safety program, and a worker-to-worker education process – to over 90% of Florida’s tomato fields.

On February 9, 2012, Trader Joe’s finally agreed to help the plight for farm workers by signing the Fair Food Agreement. They joined (among others) such big names as Taco Bell, McDonald’s, Subway, Burger King, and Whole Foods. But guess who wont join CIW: Chipotle and Publix.

It is especially surprising that Chipotle, the one corporation whom you would assume would be at the forefront of workers rights issues, is distancing themselves. They promote the integrity of their food and practices more than anyone — so the fact that they wont partner with CIW in adopting the Fair Food Principles is especially baffling. The company’s whole image is around Food with Integrity and their focus on ensuring the products they use “are grown, made and shipped without exploiting people”. From Chipotle’s website: “We can talk about all of the procedures and protocols we follow and how important they are – but it all really comes back to the people behind every ingredient we purchase, burrito we make, and customer we serve.”

These workers are the people behind their ingredients. Instead Both Publix and Chipotle have decided to do it their “own way” in an approach that forgoes transparency and farmworker participation.  Both have statements about their uninterest in partnering with CIW. Publix issued a statement in 2010 saying: “If there are some atrocities going on, it’s not our business…”  Chipotle’s CEO states their efforts in improving the nation’s food supply system are “rooted in doing the right things”…so why arent they doing the right thing in the case of farmworkers?

The thing is, farmworkers rights are a very important, but overlooked issue. Despite all the news as of late, consumers very often dont consider those people who are picking the majority of our food. By working with CIW, Chipotle would be bringing to light something that is so important. That’s what Daniel told Chris Arnold, Communications Director & Official Spokesman for Chipotle, when we met last week at the Edible Conference in Santa Barbara: “Whether or not you are compliant with the standards that CIW puts forward, the public needs a governing force. We buy fair trade coffee, not because its perfect, but because it sets a standard. By working with CIW, you would be making people aware of the farmworkers who are bring us our food.”

Major purchasers are changing their tune thanks to CIW. What’s it going to take for Chipotle and Publix? Maybe if the two chains came down to Immokalee and saw what its like to be on the other end of the tomato, they’d change their minds. It has definitely done a number on me.

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See the video we filmed while in Immokalee:

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 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 him or herself right at home there as well.

I wont lie to you: Vietnamese street food isnt for the carnivore-aversive, and Im half convinced if you play their national anthem backwards you will hear the words “fish sauce” over and over again in different languages. But in most cases, you can find something to delight your vegetarian senses — and you will be less likely to end up on a sleeper train to Hue vomiting repeatedly in the process *true story*. Granted, there were no ingredient lists (and a slight language barrier) so the rich deliciousness of my meals probably had more to do with some sort of pork broth and less to do with soy protein water. But I digress… my stomach was quite happy in Vietnam. And for good reason.

Some may cry blasphemy if you suggest omitting duck pâté from a bánh mì or shrimp and pork from bánh xèo, but I disagree. No one knows mock meat like the Vietnamese (sorry Mom — though you are very good at seasoning tofu). Over 70% of the country’s population is Buddhist or strongly influenced by Buddhist practices. Meaning for two days out of each month, the majority of the country abstains from meat, and instead only eats a wide variety of items that remind them of it in every way.

Faux isnt the only area where the country shines: overflowing bowls of basil, cilantro and other beautiful herbs accompany almost every dish. They are so fresh and delicious, I would have happily wrapped a paper napkin around a handful and eaten them with duck sauce. But I was too busy salivating over unripe jackfruit, which may be the best thing that ever happened to a vegetarian.  We weren’t in the country for more than 3 days when I was presented with heaven in the form of a dish that looked like pulled chicken, tasted like artichokes and I am still not convinced wasnt laced with crack. I ate the fruit repeatedly until I got to the point where the thought of it now makes me sick. It is that good.

But it’s not all good news. Vietnam is the place where vegetarian’s dreams are made… and then broken. Noodles, rice and spring rolls can easily come any way you like it, but somehow cant be repeated in the same perfection outside of the country. The opportunity for real mango smoothies (as in a guy behind the counter cutting up just-picked mango and blending it till it fits through a straw) becomes practically obsolete once you step into the airport. ..At least you cant get them for $1 over here.

Vietnam set me up only to be let down when I returned to my home turf. I haven’t yet found a an American-made Vietnamese dish on par with the freshness, depth and mouthwatering perfection of Vietnam. And I wasnt able to bring any presents home because my backpack was half full of  ”just in case” stale granola, of which I barely made a dent.  It’s fine. my 2-year old nieces don’t really need a full scale ceramic dragon anyways.

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Special thanks to Intrepid Travel for making this trip possible… and to Hạnh Nguyễn, who made sure there were vegetarian options wherever we dined.

We were just in Vietnam filming a food video for Intrepid Travel.  One of our favorite activities was a cooking class from a pretty phenomenal Chef.   One of the many dishes she taught us was an easy and delicious salad that is quite common in Vietnam.  Usually its main ingrediets are green mango or green papaya; sometimes it has dried beef or jellyfish as well.  However, wanting to do a more Minnesota version, I used rutabaga, turnip and celery root. Add fish sauce and other goodness, and it’s basically a badass slaw with underused root vegetables.  Enjoy.

• 200 grams each of juliened celery root, turnip and rutabaga (a small celery root, average sized rutabaga and a large turnip — don’t worry about being exact)
• 1/2 a red onion, thinly sliced
• 1 bunch watercress
• 1 bunch cilantro (chopped into bite sized pieces)
• 3 Tablespoons toasted sunflower seeds
• 1 Tablespoon sunflower oil
• 3 Tablespoons lime juice
• 2 Tablespoons honey
• 3 teaspoons fish sauce
• 2 teaspoon minced garlic

In a bowl combine the lime juice, fish sauce and honey.  Mix thoroughly and let sit for a few minutes while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.  In a larger bowl add together all of the other ingredients (except the sunflower seeds).  Add most of the fish sauce and taste the mixture.  If you need more “oomph”, add the remaining dressing.  Serve with the sunflower seeds on top as well as some of the watercress and cilantro.  Another great addition is fried shallots.

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, Canadian Goose, Asian Carp, Florida Iguana, Garlic Mustard or Kudzu, stop reading this now and run and hide. Because everyone is trying to kill you.

And not just “kill you” in a casual, “bring down their numbers” sort of way. People are hanging out of helicopters, wielding machine guns and wearing magazine belts, doing their best to completely eradicate these animals. Obviously, I’m referring to Texas here. But they aren’t the only ones working towards a invasive-free society.  The city of Boca Grande, Florida has hired a man to drive around in a golf cart and shoot iguanas;  the state of Illinois has allowed fisherman to “fish the hell out of” (I’m paraphrasing) Asian Carp; And though I don’t think the state government had anything to do with the water skiier in full football padding, outfitted with a sword and a wolverine glove slicing fish in half as they fly out of the water (thank you YouTube), they weren’t too upset about it.

Maybe they have a point. Asian Carp were introduced to the U.S. in the 60s and have since been quickly making our little country their home. They threaten native species by out-competing our fish for the plankton that forms the base of the aquatic food chain. So in the words of our youth, they are f-ing sh*t up…and reproducing at alarming rates. One fisherman in Illinois told us when he first got out on the Peoria River a few years ago, it was so packed with carp his boat motor would slice through hundreds at a time. To make matters worse, silver carp can jump 10 feet out of the water, which has resulted in injuries to boaters when a giant fish hits them in the face. (This is not funny. Though I can see how it would read that way.)

In December of last year, DNA tests found signs of Asian Carp above the Coon Rapids Dam upstream of Minneapolis and people are (for good reason) worrying that it will hurt the lakes’ $7 billion fishing industry. Last week, the Outdoor Heritage Council said they will recommend that MN Legislature increase legacy funds spent on fighting invasive species from the current $3 million to $5.5 million. There are also proposals to create a U of M Aquatic Invasive Species Center to keep tabs on the 180 invasive species in the Great Lakes and 140 in the Mississippi River.

So, things could be better. And I’m not even yet talking about the feral pigs who kill your dog and ruin your crops, but since you brought it up… In certain parts of Texas, there are more pigs than people. In certain parts of California, young campers are given instructions on what to do if a wild, rabid pig runs through your cabin. (In fact, feral pigs are considered the most popular game species in California). And if you’re a farmer anywhere in the South, you hire volunteers like forester Mark J. Hainds (an expert on invasive pigs, and author of Year of the Pig) to come during the middle of the night and “take care” of your problem.

“If you eat food,” Hainds explains, “You do not want feral pigs spreading into our major agricultural areas. Because, if a given property has adjacent high pig populations, most agricultural crops are rendered unfeasible.” So it’s not so surprising that Hainds’ services come in handy. “One family unit of pigs can wipe out a field of corn, peanuts or other vegetables if the unwary landowner leaves crops unprotected,” he explains.

“Feral pigs, if left unchecked, wipe out native plant and animal species. But, unlike other invasive species, these have several positive attributes that under some circumstances, may balance out the negative consequences of allowing populations to persist.” For example, they are fun to hunt. And the meat according to Hainds is “vastly preferable to the tasteless meat produced by agricultural behemoths that nearly wiped out the family farmer.”

However if you wipe out this sustainable source of tasty meat (as most places across america are advocating), it will be right back to that same tasteless stuff from the grocery store. So maybe eradication isnt the only answer? “With enough hunters and appropriate regulations,” Hainds tells us, “feral hog populations may be kept in check, and may be considered a renewable resource.”

For vegetarians whose sole purpose of their food choice is sustaining the environment, eating invasive species is about as sustainable as you can get. But for other vegetarians (like myself) who don’t want to kill animals for their own consumption, or for any reason… there’s got to be another answer to the problem. Come on, invasive species were introduced to this country at no fault of their own, but rather due to the irresponsible actions of humans (ie. feral pigs were brought here by the Spanish in the 1700s). So the current idea of killing as many as possible seems unfair. But do we have any other options to manage these numbers?

Maybe. According to Wildlife Scientist Stephanie L. Boyles Griffin of The Humane Society of the United States’ Wildlife and Habitat Protection Department: “Since every state has different laws governing the management of wild pigs, and there are currently no federal laws that prohibit the interstate trafficking of these animals, as quickly as some states implement plans in an attempt to eradicate them, others are transporting them across state lines and introducing them back into the environment.  It’s a vicious cycle and the best way to end it is to work with state and federal legislators to establish new laws and strengthen existing laws prohibiting the transport and intra- and interstate sale and commerce of wild pigs for the purpose of stocking hunting grounds and canned hunt facilities. Only then can we work towards the implementation of effective, humane, sustainable, effective solutions, such as development and use of immunocontraception vaccines to stabilize and reduce wild pig populations over time.”

Over time. But what about in the meantime? As Griffin explains, “we must oppose the use of primitive and unnecessarily cruel hunting practices in which pigs are harassed, gunned down with machine guns and/or attacked by dogs to the point of exhaustion before being killed (often being knifed to death, and in some states, hunters are allowed to kill pigs with spears).” Though it is a good point, it isn’t a solution to the current problem. The Humane Society has been implementing successful tactics to resolve the invasive Canada Geese population in both urban and rural areas. So they may just be on to something.

But at a time when even the most conscientious and sensitive Vegetarians (myself included) are still killing animals by their diet choices, who knows what the best answer is to the question of managing invasive species? Let’s be honest, fields full of corn, peanuts and any other grapes are certainly not in their native form. So essentially, we’re trying to wipe out invasives that are hurting our invasive farming practices. And if we’re gonna go there, most of us aren’t exactly “natives” either.

Regardless of what side of the coin your find yourself on, I highly recommend reading Hainds’ book. And whether or not you advocate hunting, eating meat, animal rights or sustainability, invasive species are a real and present issue, and I think we need everyone to enter the debate to find a sensible solution.

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So, there I found myself at 11pm pulling up to Joe’s cozy suburban cul de sac — with identical homes, all nestled right next to one another — their rows of vinyl siding merging to create one solid line, all with beautifully manicured lawns, perfectly white painted lines in the road indicating who could park where, and I’m sure very nice people nestled in their beds ready for a good, honest day of work ahead. Except for Joe. He had taken the next day off work so that he could climb into a dumpster and fish out whatever he could salvage to eat.

Joe prefaced the evenings events by telling us that diving into dumpsters has its ups and downs. This wasnt surprising to me as I could immediately think of the downsides of such an activity: say, climbing into someone else’s trash, slipping on banana peels, getting cigarette butts in your hair, contracting a venereal disease… But Joe was referring more to the quantity of our bounty. Our efforts may be fruitless, or they may be just the opposite (fruitful). I was a bit concerned until we walked into his kitchen, with the beautiful pristine countertops, and saw Joe’s bounty from trips past:  heaps of fruit overflowing in large bowls, more cereal than you could ever need, bouquets of flowers on every flat surface, bread, teas, and baked goods. Before long, my head was swirling with thoughts of fresh fruit, warm baguettes and the finest cheeses. I imagined diving into a pool of free Tofurkey packages (a recent, and since long gone, obsession) and passing out all the freshly baked danishes on little gold foil that we had acquired to passersby on the street. The nights mission would begin at midnight — exactly one hour after the store closed.  “Perfect”, I thought. We could swing by the Trader Joes, pick up as much delicious food as our hearts desired and then be back home in time to get some beauty sleep.

But as you would expect with the art of dumpster diving, things didn’t go as planned. We got in the car and were closing in on Trader Joe’s when our driver made a quick change of plans — swerving the car around ala some 1980′s chase scene –and instead parked in an apartment lot across the street. Someone was still in the store. Many people actually. And we couldn’t afford to be seen. Employees came in and out of the front electronic door. They would slowly and very carefully load a cart full of garbage bags and then take their sweet ass time bringing it around back and into the dumpster. They were taunting us. Or rather, they probably didn’t know we were there. But to me, they were our arch nemeses and this little dance of their’s took 2 hours. When the manager finally locked the door for the night, he still didn’t leave, but instead got into his car and sat there for another 30 minutes doing God knows what. Unfortunately, we couldn’t wait any longer.

So we made our way over, and into the dumpster that we would be calling home for the next 10 minutes. It wasnt quite as pristine as I had hoped. After talking to Joe, I half expected a butler to pop up and hand us the finest quality of freshly packaged items in doggie bags. But instead we would pick up a huge bag of garbage, complete with coffee grinds, water and other trash mixed in, and sift through, doing our best not to coat our hands and forearms in its contents until we found something of salvageable value. The first thing we found was a box full of beautiful bouquets — most likely thrown away because another fresh batch had come in. Not that useful for us as we were living out of the car, but promising of what could be. Then we saw a bag full of perfect bananas, and another bag with fresh mozzarella, challah bread and cherry pies. Not the best night, as Joe put it. But sufficient to get the point across: These things didnt need to be thrown away. They were in perfectly good condition to be sold and eaten. This was just an unfortunate waste.

With our newly procured groceries, we headed back home to investigate further, divy up the goods, and head to bed. And the next morning, with our bellies full of the most delicious trash you could imagine, and our perspective on the whole dumpster situation appropriately shifted, we said our goodbyes. I appreciated Joe’s candidness and fearlessness in letting us film. And I was concerned with how the video’s publicity would affect his ability (and that of other dumpster divers) to continue his craft.  But he didn’t seem worried. After the movie Dive came out, exposing the huge amount of waste at Trader Joe’s, his local store started locking their dumpster.  But Joe was still able to jimmy his way in. He would be fine.

I spoke to Joe a couple days after the video posted, letting him know it was out and wanting to see how he has been doing. He was happy to tell me of his dumpster exploits from the previous evening: two full cases of perfectly good instant mashed potatoes, 20 lbs. of oranges, 30 of apples,  40-50lbs. of bananas, a huge variety of bread, cakes, cookies, muffins, organic salad mix, bell peppers, pineapples, a case of yogurt, eggs, chocolates, broccoli, snow peas, cheese spread, beef, pork, fish, and a ton of other stuff he couldn’t remember.

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It wasnt Daniel’s intention, but thats what happened when he helped to show me the world within our country. We came back a few days ago from the road — weary, worn, and happy. Minneapolis has changed a bit since we left and so have we. Truthfully, I dont think it would have been possible to stay the same.

1. I no longer gag when I see a bug during mealtime. Because Ive now eaten a bug. Specifically, a humongous waterbug with a million legs, protruding eyeballs, tentacles, and wings. It was boiled and then sauteed. And as a vegetarian I wouldnt have touched it. But when our gracious host filleted the large bird-of-an-insect, the smell of pear jollyrancher filled the room. And I knew I had to try. Surprisingly, it tasted just as it smelled: Essences of fruit and saltiness with a touch of, you guessed it, chicken.

2. I no longer eat (as much) junk food. As a former junk food aficionado, this is a major feat. I realized how out of touch I was when I lost at a game of “guess the candy bar” at a baby shower the other day. Imagine my embarrassment. Its a huge change, and one Im pretty proud of. And it came down to this:  After seeing all the good, real food out there — after tasting an apricot fresh from the tree in California, and a real heirloom tomato in Illinois, the massed produced, artificially flavored crap just doesn’t cut it. Dont get me wrong, I would never turn down a box of hot tamales. But I am not as into the other stuff as I used to be. And if we’re going to have full disclosure…candy, and pop has started to make me feel a little sick when I eat it. Apparently, my body was trying to clue me in.

3. I am gravely out of shape. Which Ive kind of always realized, but just didnt have the interest. But after spending 6 months either in a car or hunched over a computer, and then trying to do something athletic (say, go for a hike up a mountain) you really get in touch with your weaknesses. I plan to do something about it.

4. Im realizing that everyone has a story, and they want to tell you about it if youre willing to listen. We’ve met people from all walks of life: refugees, farmers, businessmen, fishermen, big name chefs and unknown home cooks living off the grid. They’ve taken the time to sit with us and tell us about where they came from, what they struggle with, who they really are. I cant describe how lucky I feel for the access we’ve had: Over tea in the morning at the Apostolic family’s home in Ohio, or over steak served on paper plates in front of the TV in Mississippi. I found myself stopping and trying to take in how everything looked and felt: every smell, every decoration on the wall, every sound. I didnt want to forget that moment and how very fortunate I was to be there.

When I got home last week, I already had a package of homemade dried peaches and homemade spicy mustard from our friends in Ohio (who you may remember from Episode 74: God’s Country). And just yesterday, they invited us to their daughter’s wedding in January. We’re trying to figure out a way to make it. I had a postcard from our new friend in San Antonio (who stepped in to take pictures of hunting feral pigs when I couldnt bare it). I had a text message from Squirrel (the catfish noodler in Episode 56: Hand Grabbin) welcoming me back to Minnesota and saying he wishes he could see snow and get to go skiing. They’re my new friends. Before I may have said they were unlikely friends. Maybe because we’ve grown up in completely different worlds. But we’re not so different.

5. Im trying to try things.  Daniel and I spent 21,000 miles sitting within a foot of each other in the car. Surprisingly, we got along pretty well.  In fact, our only point of contention was over my picky (some may instead say “sophisticated”) palate. Daniel insisted that I was an asshole for turning down food instead of trying to appreciate it. I thought he was a jerk for making me feel badly of being a supertaster, and therefore not enjoying all the flavors. We went back and forth for probably 18,000 miles, until one day, he made a good point: There is an incredible variety of flavors in the world, and maybe a part of living life fully is trying to taste each one and be awed by the fact that somehow this flavor came to be. That “fishy” taste that I stay away from — isnt it fascinating that the ocean creates this salty, sensation that you cant find anywhere else. Beets — earthy and unappealing, but try to appreciate that something or someone created that flavor that tastes just like the earth. On this trip, I tried clams, oysters and mussels for the first time. Im trying to eat a little bit of beets everytime they are offered to me. And when I have an aversive reaction to something, I try to instead taste it fully and think about why it’s different, and why it is amazing that such a thing exists.

6. I look at food differently. After meeting the people who cherish the food they have — the farmers who will cut a bruised spot out of an apple and eat the rest. The dumpster diver who uses everything he finds (cans, juices, gifts) because he doesnt want to waste. The immigrant laborers who are breaking their backs and making nothing to bring the majority of our produce to the grocery stores…you appreciate more what you have. And after seeing the disregard for life (whether it be bycatch, or human rights) you start to re-evaluate what’s important, and what you want to support.  The tough thing is no one is perfect. So where do you draw the line?

We’ve seen a lot in the past 6 months. And as my mom commented after reading the article on our tomato industry… “after seeing the truth, you can never not see it again“. You just have to figure out what that truth means to you. That’s what Im trying to do now. I dont want to revert back to when I didnt care, or when I didnt see these truths. I want to remember all of these friends, all of these experiences, and keep learning.

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With all that luck, I asked Mirra what was the high point of the trip, and she said something that rung true for me as well.  She said the two highlights were Catfish noodling in Mississippi and Farming with the Apostolic family in Ohio.  These two families lived such different lives from our own (and from each other) yet we were really able to connect, and share and become part of their lives for a few days. They even became our friends.  Our preconceived notions were wiped away and a new point of view developed with the friendship.  We had spent a couple nights at the homes of both these families — not something we could do with every story, and certainly not something that every American can or will do in order to get to know where their food comes from. But this relationship made me hope that through the videos we produce, perhaps we were able to shed a little light into the lives of these food producers across America, and draw a closer connection to our viewers… something more like a friendship.

And so we are back in Minnesota.  It’s cold as hell but we have a lot to do.  There are still months of videos from the road to be released.  Plans for a cookbook, perhaps TV.  And after just having taken the trip of a lifetime, we have to start making plans for the next one.

Thank you for your support, this trip wouldn’t have been possible with out you.  Keep watching and Enjoy the rest of the journey.

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. Though they appear still, 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.

Id heard about the desolate, empty streets, busted in windows, and burned out buildings. But never about the city’s dichotomy: the strange, zombie-like state (stray dogs ducking in and out of sight; rows of empty blocks with scattered, battered houses; unnaturally silent streets at night; deep struggle and penetrating poverty), coupled with a crazy injection of life (gardens popping up in empty lots; DJ parties in front of broken down buildings; a bustling, busy farmers market).

For those who have the socioeconomic means, there is a feeling that anything possible. For others, the feeling is just the opposite. For me, I see a crazy, broken down city that is on the verge of something. I’m not exactly sure what it is. But it’s that something that makes me want to come back and be a part of it.

I have a fascination with it that is maybe unfair to the people who have lived and struggled in the city their entire lives. To an outsider, whose worries growing up seem trivial compared to that of native Detroiters, the landscape is an incredible empty canvass. You can buy a house and a plot of land for $500 and start your own garden. You can buy a building for cheap, open a restaurant — and be a success. There is so much room for anything. Talk of need for the only (currently non-existant) no-kill shelter made me start thinking “maybe I should move here…maybe I could start that.” It all feels very romantic: Running to a town in need and creating life from the rubble.

But this is also coming from someone who didnt have to struggle in the way that those on the streets of Detroit do. I didnt have to worry that my neighbors would break into my house. I didnt have to constantly fear for my safety. The city is a very real, very gritty look at American life, where many are doing everything they can to survive. They dont have the means to do something that Im fantasizing about. So maybe it is an elitist mentality that makes me think I can create there. Or the opportunistic hope that I could be whoever I want there. I dont know. There is just something about it.

We’ll start off way back in New Orleans.  It was an early stop on our trip and we were really excited about it.  New Orleans is one of the few places in America with it’s own rich culture of food.  It’s just hard to find it (unless of course you’re interested in a very tourist-geared cuisine or poorly prepared beinets and poboys on frenchman street).  We did however come upon a few great meals, one was a free(!!) dinner at Restaurant August (John Besh’s flagship). A delicious and decadent meal, the gnocchi with truffle was what I remember the most.  But the other two places were the non fine dining gems that surprised and delighted, and their food had little to do with New Orleans except for their ingredients.
Around the corner from where we stayed (at the delightful Maison de Macarty B&B...), there was a wine bar called Bacchanal. This wine bar was not typical.  You walk in the front door and it looks like the back room of a wine store — with boxes on the floor, and wine stacked in weird arrangements.  You peruse amongst the stock, pick your bottle and are given a couple glasses. Oh yeah, and there is a fridge stocked with badass cheese — its plastic wrapped, but the cheeses are ripe and unique.  They’ll plate them up for you, with some bread and olives and send you out back.  And the back of the wine bar is equally as surprising as the front — a jazz band plays in the corner of a huge patio where random tables are scattered amongst palm trees, plastic chairs, park benches and picnic tables. It’s a mish-mosh of sit where you can and enjoy your wine and cheese.  But there’s more: on the weekends, a visiting chef comes and cooks at the outdoor kitchen.  Your food may be served on paper plates, but its stuff like shrimp with cucumber gazpacho, grilled sea bass with caramelized fennel, or crab and beet salad.  All really delicious, even eaten with a plastic fork.  And then of course it’s beautiful outside — the music is good, and above all it is laughably casual.  No one cares about anything, except the food, wine and music.

This review is taking on more than I expected, I’ve never reviewed food before.  Or I suppose this isn’t a review, its just declaring greatness. I don’t want to get into what food is shitty out there, Id rather focus on the positive.  So the last place that was so excellent was our spot for doing work.  With 100% humidity and way too many po-boys, we escaped to a hipster/anarchist/farmer joint called Satsuma.  Beet juice with lemonade; Quinua and soy bean salad with New Orleans spinach; Killer coffee.  Its a vegetarian’s dream come true. We only spent a week in New Orleans but we came back to this spot at least 4 times.  Its the kind of place that every neighborhood needs.

Oh yeah – the shrimp boat from the episode was amazing food too — but I can’t tell you how to have that experience, you have to figure it out for yourself.