If the test of what makes a class great or not is the amount of change it effects in your life, then this Food, Self & Society class is one of the greatest classes I have taken thus far. That’s not to say that it’s not great in it’s own right, but simply that it has changed my life in several meaningful ways. Of course, I can’t make a claim like that without backing it up, without providing some sort of proof. Let me begin, then, by telling you a brief story.
About a month ago, I took a trip to Montana with 12 other Macaulay students, each of us presenting on our own areas of expertise. Some presented on literary elements, others, like myself, presented on global warming and how it can be traced through tree rings (a heretofore unknown to me science called “dendrochronology”). It was all fairly wonderful, except for my newfound attitude towards eating. On the one hand, I could not look at a steak, burger, or chicken sandwich and feel like I could justifiably eat it, while on the other hand I was not going to let myself be drawn away from foods I loved. A third attitude was one of curiosity – where had my food come from? How had the animals been treated (thank you very much, Peter Singer & Jim Mason)? What sorts of chemicals have been used here? What other options do I have? Eating became very difficult. Or, more accurately, feeling good about ordering certain foods became difficult until I actually had the food in front of me and my knife had begun to cut.
While all this was going through my head, another thought occurred to me – do my friends think this way? I asked around, and for the most part, no one did (except for two friends, one who had borrowed my Singer/Mason book and the other one a Hindu). They were, of course, open to discussion, and upon hearing some of the things I had to say, they seemed curious to know where their food had come from and how it had been made, too.[1]
Finally, I thought, what about the people who aren’t my friends? By this, of course, I meant people in the poorer neighborhoods of NYC. Do they have the luxury of thinking about their food? After all, I thought, maybe the only reason I was able to ask such questions was because of money – my father provides for me, and I’ve earned enough money where I can make choices with my food that are more than just “McDonald’s or KFC tonight?” But there are people out there where this is the only option, and there are people out there where even those are not possible. These are the people who have no choice but to participate in the industrial food chain – a process whereby corn is commoditized and turned into food for cattle who don’t have a natural capacity to eat it, where those same cattle are separated from their mothers at a very early age and fattened at an unnatural pace, where chickens are kept in such tight, cramped conditions that they need to have their beaks seared off to avoid their pecking at and possibly killing each other, where pigs have their tails cut off because they’re in such tight conditions that they will otherwise bite each other’s tails off. The animals suffer in such a system, but again, some people have no choice but to participate in such a system. Far be it from me, however, to pass judgment – that’s done well enough by Michael Pollan in The Omnivore’s Dilemma and even better by Peter Singer and Jim Mason in The Ethics of What We Eat.
Like I said earlier, though, I have a choice in the matter; I can afford to make choices to get my food from outside this chain. Why, however, would I do so? I think the answer to that, at least on a simple, emotional level has been made clear already – I, for the most part, cannot stomach the idea of being responsible for animal suffering. This, I’ve found, is something I share with most people who avoid the industrial food system in NYC. However, there are other reasons for moving away from such a system. First of all, the production of the various fertilizers needed to grow crops out of season (and in season), in addition to the transportation of the products and byproducts of agriculture, require a great deal of oil, most of which is obtained from the Middle East. This is hard to swallow on several levels. First, I do not wish to eat food that has been sprayed with chemicals; I’d like to put only natural foods (plants and meats alike) into my body;[2] furthermore, I don’t want to pour oil into the mouths of my loved ones.
Second, the environmental consequences of such a system help contribute to climate change – oil production in general does so, but the droppings of the animals in such a system also taint nearby water supplies, in addition to their meat and that of their comrades. Michael Pollan, upon visiting an industrial feedlot where cows were kept in close conditions similar to what I’ve talked about here, found that animals were lying in their own feces. He goes on to say that studies have been done, showing that such “mud,” as we’ll call it, runs into rivers in such numbers that it can damage ecosystems. I, for one, would like to avoid being a part of a system that does this; I don’t want to be responsible for poisoning my loved ones, my fellow man, or any animal.
Third, and most important (from my perspective, at least), is that such a system puts America’s food supply in the hands of foreign oil producers. Granted, we have a (for the most part) good relationship with nations who sell us oil, but such a dependency seems unacceptable. For one thing, oil supplies will eventually run out, while demand will forever increase (unless another, sustainable form of energy and food production is found – more on the latter later in this paper), thereby causing prices for the transportation of food, and, ultimately, the cost to the consumer, to rise tremendously. Secondly, should those who supply us with oil decide to cut us off again like they did in the 1970s, our food supply is subject to very serious production problems. Then again, maybe such an event will mean refocusing our food supply around local production; I won’t pass judgment on that just yet, though.
Finally, there are others who choose to avoid the industrial food system because of the distance the food in that system must travel to get to their plates. All three authors whose books we read this semester make references to this idea. A few of the reasons for this are very similar to those mentioned already. There’s still an idea or two left, however, which push people away from the industrial food system and towards alternatives. For example, foods in alternative systems are usually produced within a 200-mile radius of the average consumer, which has several benefits: consumers can feel comfortable with the knowledge that they are supporting local economies, neighbors, and friends; they can, usually, visit the farms where their food is being produced and observe the methods farmers use, thereby avoiding the negative parts of the industrial food system and keeping local farmers honest; they can taste the quality of products produced in these local farms, which is almost always better than the standardized and mechanized produce of the industrial food system.
With these thoughts of why in mind, I went and observed two neighborhoods in Staten Island, the Greenmarket at the Staten Island Ferry’s Whitehall Terminal, and the Red Hook Community Farm in Red Hook, Brooklyn[3] in order to find out what alternative options were available for residents of these neighborhoods (New Dorp, Westerleigh, and Saint George, Staten Island; Red Hook & Park Slope, Brooklyn). Nor surprisingly, the neighborhood with the most options was Park Slope. Here I found organic shops and restaurants, an abundance of regular restaurants (mostly on the pricey end), all of which seemed to have vegetarian options, several food stores with a wide selection of products (both organic and non-organic), and (of course!) a fast food establishment or two.
The other Brooklyn neighborhood we visited, Red Hook, was not nearly as well supplied. There were more than a fair share of fast food places, and perhaps a restaurant or two.[4] The only thing that stood out above the rest of the neighborhood (other than Ikea) was Added Value’s farm – a plot of land (a former public baseball diamond and football field) planted with two or three acres of various different plants. The idea of this farm is, primarily, to help inner city children gain access to a sustainable, healthful food source while keeping them off the streets (neighborhood kids are the ones most often encouraged to do work on the farm, for varying periods of time). It was also a lot of fun to visit, as we got to plant tomato seeds and learn a little bit about how this CSA operates (and, therefore, how other CSAs work, too). The only negative – I was eating my falafel when we passed the fertilizer-making part of the farm.
My next visit also happened to be in my hometown – New Dorp, Staten Island.[5] Though the selection is not, perhaps, as good as can be found in Park Slope, there’s still a great deal of accessibility. Indeed, there are two supermarkets (within walking distance of my house), each with similar prices and accessibility (though one is a bit cheaper than the other – the main reason that some of my interviewees said they chose that over the other), two or three “organic” and “health food” stores, several restaurants, and a decent amount of fast food joints, too. A thought has occurred to me since that visit though, thanks to Joel Salatin (as related by Michael Pollan) – is this “organic” food really organic, or do the food and other products sold there just meet the barely-there standards held by the USDA? It doesn’t really matter to me, I suppose, given that prices in there are too high.
Next on my agenda was the Westerleigh neighborhood of Staten Island, where I found one supermarket (a Pathmark), no health food stores, a few restaurants, and several to many fast food stores. One should not discount the area when it comes to good food, however. The non-fast-food restaurants are superb, with one in particular having some of the best pizza I’ve ever had. Beyond this, the neighborhood is notable for it’s public transportation; there are several bus lines that run through, at least two of which stop at or near the supermarket.
Finally, there are the two neighborhoods that I’ve deemed (for the purposes of this paper) the “ferry neighborhoods.” First, given that I live on the island, was Saint George. This was not the first time I’d walked through this neighborhood for a class, nor anywhere near the first time I’d been through the area. There are, as far as I have been able to find, no supermarkets. I haven’t found any health foods stores, though I don’t doubt their existence.[6] Bodegas, however, can be found in abundance, as can specialty and ethnic food stores (i.e., the African Homeland store). Public transportation here, however, is probably the best on the island, as there are a great deal of bus lines that go to the ferry, and the ferry is a five to ten-minute walk from most places in the neighborhood.
The second of the two ferry neighborhoods does not really count as a neighborhood, but it is a greenmarket in the Whitehall Ferry Terminal. Here we find Wilklow Orchards and Remsburger Maple Farm selling their wares. The benefit of buying from these farms, at this market, is that you know for a fact that you are buying locally grown food. Indeed, this is a requirement to participate in New York City’s GrowNYC; your farm must be within a 200-mile radius to sell at any of the program’s greenmarkets. As I said earlier, this means that you are supporting both your local farmers and the local economy. What’s more, the food bought at these markets is generally fresher than that which you’ll get at the supermarket, and tastier, too. Because I was with a group, and the greenmarket was not our primary objective for the day (we had to get uptown relatively quickly), I did not get to stay long, nor did I get to talk to the workers for a significant period of time. However, I found a relatively wide selection of fruits, with the primary focus being on apples. I bought something called “apple leather,” which, to be honest, I thought would be much better than it was. It wasn’t bad, but I would never buy it again. Regardless of that fact, however, it’s obvious that the greenmarket, given the relatively affordable prices of produce sold there, is a very good option.
Other than what I’ve already said, then, what distinguishes these markets and others like them from the industrial food system? For one thing, their mode of operations is very different. Operations are not nearly as large on these farms as on industrial lots, for one thing. Indeed, taking the Red Hook farm for an example of CSAs in general, you find that food is grown locally, sometimes on-site, and people can join for a few hundred dollars per season. This seemingly large amount of money guarantees a basket of fresh fruits and veggies all season, however. A secondary effect of this is that animals are treated much, much better and are generally happier (see Michael Pollan’s description of Joel Salatin’s farm animals in Omnivore’s Dilemma). What’s more, these farms are generally family-owned, so they are more likely to be responsive to the needs of their animals, their customers, and the environment.
Naturally, the next question to ask is whether the alternate food systems that are available increase the food security of New Yorkers (or, in this case, Staten Islanders). For this paper, food security will be defined as access to affordable, healthful food. In the neighborhoods I explored, food security really did not seem to be an issue. Granted, I didn’t explore the seedier-seeming parts of neighborhoods (my own included), but I cannot imagine, based on the research I’ve done and bus lines that I know to go through the several areas, that accessibility is an issue in these areas, either. All this, of course, is if you choose to stay within the industrial food market. This, as we’ve seen already, generally means that the food was produced non-organically an average of 2500 miles away from where you are eating it. The greenmarkets are a good step in the right direction, but if New Yorkers (and Staten Islanders) are to be truly food secure, we need to greatly increase access to fresh, locally grown food while at the same time decreasing their prices and closing the doors of the fast food establishments which make healthier options look to be the better ones.
In concluding this paper, I’d like to discuss something I consider to be akin to my “pet project,” and the future of New York City’s food system – vertical farming. The basic concept here is that you build a skyscraper in an urban center (how high the building goes can vary depending on the needs and laws of the area), built for farming. There would be simulated sunlight, to varying degrees, on each of several levels of the farm, simulating a perfect growing environment as closely as possible. Foods given to the plants would be monitored by scientists and farmers to ensure a perfect blend of nutrients is absorbed. Then, when the food is ready, it could be distributed almost immediately to the surrounding city, thereby having food travel 50 miles or less to your plate, as opposed to the currently typical 2500. The food produced in these buildings, while not necessarily “organic,” would be produced in a way that is much more efficient than is currently available for “industrialized” food. What’s more, the building would be nearly self-reliant with regards to power and hydration and whatnot, making use of all the various elements of nature outside the building (i.e., sun, wind, rain, etc) to power the building’s functions. Of course, it would not be totally disconnected from the power grid, but it would be so minimally invasive so as to be as if it were almost not there at all. Not only is this good for the environment, but it also increases food security in two senses of the word. First, the viability of our food system would no longer be dependent on foreign oil, and second, such a system of vertical farms in NYC would be able to produce enough food so as to increase all New Yorkers’ ability to obtain and eat fresh, nutritious, locally-grown food at an affordable price. This, my friends, is the future of New York City’s food supply.
Until then, however, I bid you adieu.
[1] I will readily admit, of course, that they may have been faking their curiosity. Or, if they were not faking it, perhaps their interest was only temporarily aroused.
[2] Throughout this paper, I will refer to myself in the first person. In many cases, where I say “I feel,” or “I don’t want,” or something of that sort, it can safely be assumed that I am also referring to people in general who choose to go outside of the industrial food system.
[3] The farm in Red Hook was visited as part of a class trip with the rest of my Food, Self & Society class. I will admit that my on-site research did not go beyond what’s listed in this sentence, simply because I feared leaving my comfort zone.
[4] My investigation of Red Hook was not nearly as thorough as the other neighborhoods; most of my observations here were made from the backseat of a car.
[5] I don’t know if this qualifies as a “visit” per se, but for the purposes of this paper, let’s call it one.
[6] The economic makeup of the neighborhood as a whole is not as good as most of the neighborhoods I’ve visited. However, it is not as destitute as my description may have made it sound. It is, in fact, very nice, and a neighborhood that I thoroughly enjoy.
