5 second rule

Ideal/Real

There's the ideal, and there's the real. In an ideal world, public schools would have enough money to offer core academic subjects, plus music, art, drama, and foreign language.  There'd be funds for PE and funds for enrichment.  There'd be cash for extras, too, like nutrition education.

The reality is this: schools are stretched, and if parents see a need to fill, they've got to step up, or their priorities won't be met.  Sometimes their initiatives succeed, and sometimes they don't, but doing nothing is the surest way to guarantee stasis.

This is a story about one individual, one company, one school, and a creative partnership to solve a national problem.  By way of background and disclosure, this is about the school my children attend, though I was not involved in this success story.  In fact, I initially didn't want it to happen at all.

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With all the national hoopla about childhood obesity, questionable cafeteria food, and an entire generation of kids accustomed to eating pockets and nuggets instead of stew, or soup, or salad, there may be hope when the public and private sectors collide.   Such partnerships can be political and tricky if not forged carefully, but the stark truth is that a private company may have the resources to promote healthful eating when a public school district lacks the funds to do so on its own.

Two weeks ago, a local mother at my kids’ school named Lisa Harris brought Jon Husting of Fresh Choice, a California-based restaurant chain known for its long salad bars, to lead a fresh vegetable tasting for 600+ kindergarten through fifth graders.  Over the course of five days, Husting met each class in the library, talked about the importance of eating a variety of colorful produce, and then led the kids outside.

He'd arrived early each morning to set up a table filled with whole produce, and bins filled with eight different sliced vegetables -- green peppers, radishes, jicama, carrots, red leaf lettuce, baby spinach, zucchini, and yellow squash. He, Lisa, and a few parent volunteers (I helped only on day one, since I was traveling the rest of the week) then filled a plate for each child with samples from each of the bins.  The children returned to their classrooms with their colorful loot, and their teachers chatted with them about what they were tasting.  The school’s principal, Robin Jones, animatedly made the rounds, telling the kids how proud she was of them.

Did all kids like all the vegetables?  Of course not.  But they were excited.  Excited to see a long table filled with food outside the library for an entire week; excited to eat snacks outside of official snack time; excited that the principal, and their teachers, were encouraging and enthusiastic; and excited to try something new.  Lisa reported that kids swarmed the tables all week long, asking when it would be their class' turn to come eat.  The tables caused a scene, in the best possible way.

Now, two weeks after Husting left our campus, jicama is apparently flying out of the cafeteria.  Kids who normally shunned the salad bar are asking for cauliflower. 

So I tip my hat to Lisa for her creative idea, initiative, and willingness to volunteer so much time.  And I tip my hat, too, to Fresh Choice for conducting this program on its own dime.  It’s not 100 percent altruistic, of course.  The kids received bookmarks, and when they read five books they can exchange the bookmark for a free Fresh Choice meal, so the chain does stand to see an uptick in traffic from our school for its efforts.  This was my hesitation, and why I initially didn't support the plan.  In my head, I didn't want any private business coming to school, talking to the kids, if it stood to gain financially from the interaction.

But our world is not ideal.  It's real.  And I'm glad Lisa had the courage of her convictions, or the school salad bar wouldn't suddenly hold so much interest for our kids.

Once a skeptic, I now hope Fresh Choice returns next year.

Corps

Earlier this week I met the five founders of Food Corps, a project so exciting my breath caught when I heard about it.  The idea is straightforward: much like the Peace Corps (an organization, for obvious reasons, close to my heart) and its domestic counterpart AmeriCorps, Food Corps is being established on the principle that, especially in a down economy, enthusiastic youth in need of jobs and work experience could offer their labor in return for hands-on training in school-based farming and agriculture.  At the same time, they would provide much needed manpower to meet the exploding interest in school gardens and farm-to-school education for children, particularly in underserved communities.

The Food Corps founding committee – which includes Crissy McMullan of the National Center for Appropriate Technology, the National Farm to School Network’s Debra Eschmeyer, documentary filmmaker Curt Ellis (King Corn), Slow Food USA’s Jerusha Klemperer and her former colleague Cecily Upton, all pictured above – have been ironing out the project’s scope and details, and hope to secure a solid financial commitment from AmeriCorps in several months.  (Their work to date has been supported by AmeriCorps and the W.K. Kellogg Foundation.)

How cool is this? Can’t you envision the potential for this program?  The Peace Corps has operated on a similar model for 50 years, taking eager youth (and, more recently, mid-career professionals and retirees), and pairing them with overseas sites in need of manpower.  Vista and AmeriCorps, of course, do this in the United States, as do organizations like Teach for America, which operates under broadly similar principles.  To apply these same precepts to food and farming is inspired – the possibilities, both for the volunteers and, more importantly, the communities they’d serve, would narrow the gap between what we’re all clamoring for (healthier food systems, teaching kids where their food comes from) and where we currently find ourselves.

Hey AmeriCorps, three words for you: fund this program.

(For more information, or to get involved, click here.)

Mess

This is a chicken.

I did not raise this chicken.

I did not kill this chicken.

But I did cook and eat this chicken.

About 10 days ago Colin's cousin sent me this Peggy Orenstein article from the New York Times.  It was called "The Femivore's Dilemma," and it stopped me cold. This line said it all: "Apparently it is no longer enough to know the name of the farm your eggs come from; now you need to know the name of the actual bird."  Orenstein describes several friends of hers from Berkeley who, in addition to plucking their salad greens direct from kitchen gardens, have also built chicken coops to raise their own poultry.  

The piece has been floating around in my head since I read it, making me a little itchy, a touch ill at ease.  Am I a femivore?  Well, let's see.  I am a feminist, and I do believe in paying very careful attention to the source of my food.  I shop at the farmers' market, buy organic dairy, and pepper my fish purveyor with questions about his salmon and shrimp.

But there's a lot I don't do.

I don't can (I'm too wimpy), or buy my meat direct from a farmer.  I don't compost, don't make my own yogurt, don't nurture a sourdough starter.  And I don't raise chickens. 

So I'm kind of caught between two worlds: on the one hand, I want to be mainstream, want to be "normal" so my kids aren't embarrassed when I make a fuss about the lunches served at school. On the other hand, I want to remain true to my core values, to speak up, and to share my strong views.

So where does this leave me?  What am I?

A feminist omnivore, but not quite a femivore.

A semi-crunchy but not fully-green, environmentally-conscious-but-not-100%-committed environmentalist.

A school food advocate who's willing to speak up and promote change, but unwilling to burn bridges.

A left-of-center mother who doesn't want to be so left that her kids are ostracized by their peers or their peers' parents.

Oy.

Wait!  I got it! 

I know what I am!

A mess.

Advocate

An hour ago I dropped my kids off at school.  First lunchboxes of the year, first day jitters, nervous smiles all around.  And I'm just talking about the parents. 

I got an email yesterday from a new kindergarten mom.  She's researching lunch containers, considering her options, seeking advice.  Meanwhile, parents wonder what they'll find in the school cafeteria.  Will it be the same old fare?  Or are things changing?

Kim Severson's article "Stars Aligning On School Lunches" in last Wednesday's NYT contained this hopeful paragraph:

The Department of Agriculture is expected to upgrade school food nutrition standards this year, many of which haven't been changed for nearly 15 years.  And because many Obama USDA appointees are focusing on improving student health through better food, the department has started an aggressive effort to study reform efforts big and small.  These include the national farm-to-school program, which is in nearly 9,000 schools..." [more here]

One woman at the forefront of school food reform is Dr. Susan Rubin, founder of Better School Food in Mount Kisco, New York.  I spent several days with Susan last spring, when she sponsored my attendance at the Farm to Cafeteria conference in Portland, Oregon. (You might recall my post about the conference; if not, please click over.)

While we were together, I interviewed Susan. So today, as kids out here unpack their pencil cases and parents fret pick-ups and homework, I thought the time was right to share our conversation:

CSR: You used to be a dentist, right?  And now you're a full-time school food advocate.  Connect the dots.

Dr. Susan Rubin: Thirteen years ago when my kids started public school they were bringing home candy wrappers from the cafeteria.  I got involved in my local PTA nutrition committee and hit a lot of obstacles.  I went back to school [to study nutrition] and learned that sugar does a lot more than just rot your teeth and that we had even bigger problems with our food. 

CSR: Who belongs to Better School Food?

SR: Health professionals, educators, concerned parents, and even college kids.  They're my new demographic.  They're trying to clean up the food in their cafeterias, too.

CSR: It seems pretty obvious that we should all want better school food.  So whom are we fighting against?

SR:  Agribusiness, the junk food industry, Monsanto. How we do food in school is how we do food in our culture and it's messed up.  Food is a really sensitive, touchy subject for our culture.  Confusion is everywhere. 

CSR: Identify the movement's biggest challenges.

SR:  Every mom who is trying to make a change in her community finds different challenges, but the one thing we have in common is that this is still considered fringe.  We've been labeled tree-hugging-granola-crunching-earth-mamas.  These moms are feeling so isolated because this is not yet mainstream.

CSR: If people are interested in exploring potential change in their own school districts, where can they start?

SR: Become a member of Better School Food.  We have tons of free downloadable material.  You also can get involved with our Facebook page  (here).  I give people direct advice, too.  If someone contacts me on Facebook, I respond.  I'm approachable.  Facebook is a great tool for communities because you don't have to feel like you're the only crunchy mom in your town.

CSR: Final thoughts?

SR: None of these things really start from the top down.  They all start from the bottom up.  Parents can be pivotal.

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Pictorial

Sometimes I need to contextualize my pictures with a story or a pithy quip.  Sometimes you need to know what you're looking at, or you need me to whet your palate because you're not sure if you're really craving a chopped salad or, I don't know, a salmon sandwich.

This time?  This time I'm keeping my mouth shut and letting the pictures speak for themselves.

 

 

An, in case you missed it, here it is all at once:

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Recipe for Blueberry Corn Muffins

I'm a fan of gritty, corny corn muffins with big bits of cornmeal.  If they're light and airy and pouffy and moist, thanks, but keep them for yourself.  They should be dry enough so they don't dissolve into nothingness when they hit the roof of your mouth, and they should be sturdy, so you can toast them and slick them with butter.  These are.

Yields 12 muffins

1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup medium-grind yellow cornmeal
1-1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 large eggs
2/3 cup dark brown sugar
1 stick (8 tablespoons) butter, melted
3/4 cup sour cream
1/2 cup 2% milk
1 cup frozen wild blueberries (keep frozen until just before adding to batter)
1 teaspoon demerara sugar

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees and generously coat a 12-cup muffin tin with nonstick spray.  (Coat the cups and the spaces between them.)

Whisk the first 6 ingredients (flour through salt) in a large bowl to combine.

In a medium bowl, whisk the eggs together for about 30 seconds until very well combined.  Whisk in the brown sugar, then slowly stream in the melted butter down the side of the bowl, whisking all the while.  (You may want to don an apron.)

Combine the sour cream and milk in a 2-cup glass measure and whisk to combine.  Whisk this into the egg mixture, then dump the wet ingredients over the dry and fold to combine.  Just as the last bit of flour is moistened (use a rubber spatula to turn the batter over from the bottom so you're sure everything is incorporated), fold in the blueberries and give a final stir or two.

Use an ice cream scoop to divide the batter among the muffin cups.  They will be filled to the very top.  Sprinkle with the demerara sugar (just a wee bit on each muffin).

Bake for about 20 minutes, rotating the tin halfway through baking and removing only when the muffins are nicely brown.  Cool for a minute or two, then remove with a spoon and allow to finish cooling on a wire rack.  (N.B.  These muffins are best when they're completely cool and you can split and toast them.  I wrap each one individually in plastic and store them in the freezer in a bag.  They defrost in minutes on the counter.  They also defrost beautifully in lunchboxes.)

printable pdf

Song

 
I'm currently attending the Food & Society conference right here in San Jose.  It's strange and wonderful to be in my own city for an event like this, especially after my recent conference-related travel drama.

The day opened with the Dillard Charter Academy's elementary school choir singing a retooled rendition of Old McDonald.  Imagine 16 grammar school kids in identical lemon-colored tops harmonizing to these words:

Dillard Academy has a garden, E-I-E-I-O

And in this garden we have some veggies, E-I-E-I-O

With beans here, corn there

Here cukes, eggplants, everywhere peppers, peppers

Dillard Academy has a garden, E-I-E-I-O

Mid-song, one pint sized vocalist seized the mike to rap a rhythmic ode to mustard greens and kale.  Don't laugh.  It may seem silly, but it roused the room of 500+ food policy experts, academics, and foundation heads to its feet multiple times.

Cheryl Alston, Dillon's garden curriculum coordinator, started the program as an afterschool enrichment initiative that soon spiraled into something more.  Now students in kindergarten through 4th grade participate in garden-centered activities at the Goldsboro, North Carolina school.  Props to their choir director, Daniel Hooper, for doing such a great job with these confident kids and allowing them to shine.

And before you assume that because they're singing about kale these kids attend a hoity-toity school, a look at Dillard's website suggests otherwise.  There's an on-site food pantry on Tuesdays and Thursdays, a mobile dental lab, and a foster grandparent program that provides consistent TLC to "enhance the mental, physical, social, and emotional growth of [the] children."  Social services vouchers are accepted as payment for the after-school program.

So you may look at my photo and see a simple bowl of greens.

After listening to these kids today, I see a whole lot more.

Activism

What is an activist? 

I spent the past several days turning this question over in my mind after meeting hundreds of people at the Farm to Cafeteria conference in Portland.  Today, I have a very different image of what an activist looks like than I did a week ago. 

Admit it: you hear the word activist, and you picture a hippie on the fringe.  Someone shrill, carrying signs, in your face, complaining.  Someone unkempt, unreasonable, dissatisfied.  Someone with a bone to pick or an ax to grind.

Here's a portrait of the people I met: middle school students from New Orleans who convinced their superintendent to change his foodservice contract so they could have fresh, locally grown produce at least twice a month.  (They succeeded.)  High school students from Vermont who worked to get root vegetable "seconds" from local farms onto the lunch menus at their schools.  (They succeeded.)  And a group of college and university students across the country who have formed a vast network to bring "real" food to their cafeterias.  (They are currently succeeding, with much more work ahead of them.)

But I'm not done.  I met farmers, young ones, who care passionately about producing food but can't supply the schools in their own communities due to arcane government regulations and bureaucratic hurdles.  I met foodservice directors committed, emotionally and intellectually, to serving fresher fare but who literally do not have kitchens at their schools where they can wash, prep, and chop whole fruits and vegetables.  I met parents, and teachers, hospital administrators and nursing home workers, vegans and omnivores, growers and eaters, men, women, and children.  They came from Hawaii, Montana, New York City, small rural communities and large urban districts, and everywhere in between.  And they are all working tirelessly to connect small farmers to the nation's children, all of whom eat a midday meal in school cafeterias five days a week.

I gathered so much information that it's nearly impossible to share it all with you in a single post, and I won't try to.  (More links and concrete resources later in the week.)

But I will ask you this:

What, to you, is real food?  Not healthy food, not nutritious food, because the conversation has moved past these terms, but real food?  How inclusive is the definition?  And what does it leave out?  Try, if you can, to think past Michael Pollan's "food your grandparents ate" and probe a little deeper.

And one more question: if you could craft an ideal school lunch for children, that would both nourish and please them, what would be on the plate?

Farm-to-Cafeteria

 
I literally just spent the past hour switching back and forth between this picture, and a photo of the most decadent bar cookies I've ever tasted. 

I ultimately went with the broccoli today for a good reason: tomorrow I head to the 3-day Farm to Cafeteria conference in Portland.  The sessions and workshops will focus on developing school gardens, getting locally grown food from the fields into the lunchroom, and building coalitions among students, community leaders, food service workers, teachers, administrators, farmers, and environmentalists.  There will also be talk of the Farm Bill, healthy food in health care, university dining programs, the USDA's fresh fruit and vegetable program, and what impact existing farm-to-school programs have had in their districts.  

I wish I had an extra hard drive for my brain.

I hope these topics are of interest to you, because they certainly are to me, and you can expect to hear more about them over the next few weeks.

You'll get your decadent bar cookie recipe, too, but only if you eat your broccoli first. 

Garden

 
I've been waylaid.  Today, I gave a presentation in my son's classroom on healthy foods.  I brought in little tasting cups of cut-up kiwi, pomegranate, avocado, Meyer lemon, black beans, edamame and roasted kabocha squash.  The kids had to guess what they were after trying each one.  It was pretty hilarious to see their faces, especially when they bit into the diced lemons.  I passed around some whole, uncut produce, too (persimmons, butternut squash, ruby red grapefruit) so they could handle and smell a variety of different fruits and vegetables.

Then the best part: a fellow mom (and veteran teacher) took the kids out to the little garden she'd planted with them earlier in the fall.  The kids picked their own lettuces, smelled the freshly dug garlic, and admired the skinny roots on the ends of the radishes.  When spring rolls around, they class will make a salad.

I don't want to get all touchy-feely, but there's something magical about watching children interact with nature.

I have cookies to bake for the contest, so I'm out of here.  I'll post the next recipe soon. 

Hungarian Horns are on deck.

Mission

To learn more, go to Better School Food's website here.  

You can also join Better School Food's Facebook Group.  (You'll need a Facebook account to access the page.)

(While you're there, you can become a fan of 5 Second Rule here.)

Is seeking better food in schools really too much to ask?

If you have school-aged kids, and you do nothing else on this issue (which is fine, obviously), do me a favor: eat in your child's cafeteria just once.  Twenty minutes, tops.  While you're there, look at what's served, how it's packaged, what the kids take.  Take a bite of the food, look at the ingredient list.  Can you, or can you not, pronounce what's in there?

You may be surprised at what you find.