Food is more than what’s on the plate. This is Equal Portions, a series by editor-at-large Shane Mitchell, investigating bigger issues and activism in the food world, and how a few good eggs are working to make it better for everyone. ​​  

“Until the weather cools down, we’re focusing on water bottles, and food like apples and potatoes that are more shelf-safe,” said Kyandra Noble, founder of Austin’s ATX Free Fridge Project. “We don’t want things that can be quickly spoiled in 100 degrees.” A graduate of University of Texas, Noble works as a costumer in the film industry, but when production slowed down during the pandemic, she found herself with time on her hands and began looking around for tangible ways to improve her hometown. She discovered In Our Hearts NYC, a mutual aid project with a network of fridges housing free donated food across the Tri-State area. They advised her on how to set up fridges and connected her with people doing the same in other cities. “Then I posted on Instagram, ‘Hey, anyone want to help me here in Austin?’”

Two summers ago, the first free fridge opened outside Nixta Taqueria in East Austin. Since then, three more food donation sites have opened in other neighborhoods.

Right now, the challenge of feeding people in the Texas capital is further complicated by climate change. The heat soared above 100 degrees Fahrenheit in a record-breaking streak this summer (July was the hottest on record). More than 50 migrants died of heat exhaustion when trapped in a sweltering tractor-trailer abandoned on the outskirts of San Antonio, about 80 miles south of Austin. Electronic signs on Interstate 35 warn motorists not to leave children or pets unattended in cars. Even walking a few blocks to pick up groceries can be hazardous. “There are some parts of the year where water is the most important thing people need,” said Noble. “So when it’s hard to keep the fridges cool enough for certain types of food, we buy bottled water at H-E-B and it goes at a fast pace.”

Unlike food banks and free pantries, which typically focus on dry items and canned goods, fridges are often stocked with dairy and fresh fruits and vegetables. They are also accessible any time of the day or night. Urban gardeners donate. So do food stylists, barbecue pitmasters, meal delivery services, and homeowners about to go on vacation. The idea is to provide an anonymous resource for those facing food insecurity without the added layer of socioeconomic disparity that complicates other forms of community service. The ATX Free Fridge motto is “solidarity, not charity.”

The four fridges in Austin are a plucky contribution to a global movement. Freedge is a UK-based network that connects similar initiatives in over 400 cities around the world, with locations in coffee shops, bodegas, churches, parking lots, schools, community centers, front yards, and even an auto body shop. These fridges have become particularly welcome in regions where summers are getting hotter and drought seasons are lengthening–or anywhere the climate is increasingly unpredictable. (Who could have guessed a heat wave earlier this summer would cripple the historically damp and chilly parts of Europe, let alone drain rivers like the Rhone and Seine?) Although fall approaches, the dangerously high heat index goes on and on in other cities across America: Phoenix, Sacramento, St. Petersburg, Las Vegas. 

But even with refrigerators, rising temperatures still pose hurdles for keeping food fresh. Noble quickly discovered that the original ATX Free Fridge equipment couldn’t handle the heat without physical shelters to shield them from the relentless Texas sun. “We had to get new fridges to deal with food safety in these temperatures. People offered us second hand ones, and it would be great to take donations, but now we’re focusing on garage fridges, which are better than the ones in your house.” Noble explained that the Nixta fridge is best prepared for extreme weather events. 

A friendly invitation is taped next to the stainless steel commercial unit outside the city’s popular taqueria: “Take what you need. Leave what you can.” More donation messages encouraging people to do their part are fixed to the sides of napkin holders on each of the tables on the outdoor patio. (The placement of these calls to action is pretty genius given how deliciously messy chef Edgar Ulysses Rico’s juicy duck carnitas tacos can get.) Noble reached out to Rico’s partner, Sara Mardanbigi, to help set up the pilot program, because she was already spearheading Nixta community outreach. 

“As small business owners, it’s our responsibility to think about the greater good, and how, on a micro-level, we can enact sustainable change,” Mardanbigi said, who estimated that almost 100 people drop by daily to use the fridge. “The majority are our neighbors, but we’ve seen a wide array of participants from all over the city.” Mardanbigi explained that the kitchen contributes “oopsie orders,” as she refers to the extra tacos made by accident. The restaurant also handles fridge maintenance and grocery runs underwritten by cash donations, as well as liaising with other restaurants and organizations dropping off supplies. According to Mardanbigi, prepared meals are the most popular.

On a recent Sunday afternoon, the fridge was filled with chicken pot pies donated by The Cook’s Nook via a church food bank. “It’s whatever we have left over,” said volunteer Sarah Pernell, hauling boxes from her car. “Every week, it’s something different.” Her granddaughter Brianna swiftly stocked the shelves with individual plastic containers of pre-cooked peas, carrots, meat, and gravy under a biscuit crust. “You don’t have to heat it up. You can just eat it cold.” The two women finished and shut the fridge again. “And it’s gone so fast.”

Please consider contributing to a free fridge near you. To get started, here are maps for NYC and Atlanta and Los Angeles.

The post As Temperatures Soar, Food Fridges Come to the Rescue appeared first on Saveur.

Food is more than what’s on the plate. This is Equal Portions, a series by editor-at-large Shane Mitchell, investigating bigger issues and activism in the food world, and how a few good eggs are working to make it better for everyone. ​​ 

“There’s going to be a sugar shortage,” says Mario “Skip” DiPaolo, sitting on the front stoop of his West Taylor Street townhouse in Chicago’s Little Italy. “But I know a guy.” After a long day of picking up supplies in his truck, the 74-year-old owner of Mario’s Italian Lemonade rubs his sore knees and waves to customers waiting to place orders at the window of his family’s frozen lemonade stand. “I got lemons today, too.” During the first heat wave of summer, Chicagoans stand under a shade tree strung with plastic lemons, spooning slushy treats served in waxed paper cups.

Founded in 1954 by DiPaolo’s father, Mario Sr., who immigrated to Chicago from Italy’s Abruzzo region, the lemonade stand was a modest expansion of a hobby intended to keep his son out of trouble. The younger DiPaolo started at age six with an old-fashioned hand-crank machine on a cart outside the family’s general store, where he sold frozen lemonade for two cents. “We don’t call it ice,” DiPaolo explains. “It’s Italian lemonade. That’s just the name we’ve always stuck with.” Back then, a horse-drawn wagon delivered ice in hundred-pound blocks, and lemon juice was squeezed by hand before churning. “My grandma bought me my first electric lemon squeezer with S&H green stamps,” says DiPaolo. “[She] taught me how to make change [by] playing Monopoly with real money. And she cheated! A great lady, I loved her dearly.” According to DiPaolo, his grandfather, father, and uncle built the permanent stand out of salvaged wood. When the business took off, they bought motorized Alaska Hostess freezer machines and added more flavors (now they offer about 30). The most popular is peach, but only when the fruit is fresh. Customers regularly stop to ask DiPaolo when it will appear on the specials menu.     

Not everyone loves the tri-color stand, with its fanciful lettering by Galileo Scholastic Academy fourth graders. As the Near West Side neighborhood gentrified around the University of Illinois Circle Campus, many of the original Italian-American residents were displaced by the end of the 1960s. The family business was targeted as an eyesore and a nuisance. DiPaolo says that he spent years resisting threats of closure. Suffice to say, it got political in a specific Chicago way. He admits that he and one of his sons have been in “a little trouble.” Two police cruisers drive past, lights flashing, but shortly after, a couple of young officers line up for lemonade, too.

Street vendors across the U.S. have faced a long history of targeted harassment. In Chicago, Department of Sanitation inspectors regularly threw their products in the trash or doused them with bleach. A viral video of NYPD officers arresting a woman selling churros from an unlicensed cart in the subway sparked outrage in 2019. It happened again last month, when NYC Parks Department security threw away churros during the Mermaid Parade on the boardwalk at Coney Island. And in greater Los Angeles, where permitted sidewalk vending was legalized in 2020, food sellers still continue to be verbally abused, racially profiled, handcuffed and detained. 

Even children who set up lemonade stands in their front yards risk fines and citations, except in the 14 states where permits aren’t required. “Leave the little kids alone,” says DiPaolo. “You don’t want to take the starch out of them when they’re just getting started.” Advocacy groups have emerged to address the imbalances inherent in these micro-entrepreneurial businesses: The LA Street Vendor Campaign holds community forums, assists with permit applications, and provides funds to offset the economic impact of pandemic lockdowns. Manhattan-based Street Vendor Project offers outreach such as immigration resources, legal counseling, small business training, and loans. Asociación de Vendedores Ambulantes supports work-with-dignity causes, and continues to promote food cart regulation and health standards in Chicago.

The light is fading, and the breeze slows, so cheerful whirligigs fashioned from recycled bleach bottles dangling above the stand stop swirling. The staff is still scooping orders. “If you’re a good worker, and you can make change, you got a job here,” says DiPaolo, whose family donates to St. Ignatius College Prep High School‘s tuition assistance program. “We hire high school kids that can stay on their feet. Because I go in there and I’m too slow now. For most of these kids, though, it’s their first job. And you always remember your first job.” Offering up the citrusy treat of summer often goes hand-in-hand with serving community. Maybe it’s just a few bucks in their pockets, but it can also be a change agent, and an early way to teach budding entrepreneurs about social good. 

DiPaolo nods at the last customers lingering around the stand. A father and his three adult children pause outside the townhouse fence to greet him.

“You’re the man!”

“Hey, how you doing,” DiPaolo replies.

“I’ve been bringing my daughters here since they were about five.”

 The son chimes in.

 “My name is Mario, too.”

  “No kidding. I don’t owe you money, right?” DiPaolo jokes.   

“It’s the guy who comes every day for 20 years, he made this business successful. Not a movie star who comes once and mooches lemonade.” He sighs and gets to his feet, ready to head inside for dinner. “I should be retired. I should stop.”

Chicago will be slightly less chill when he does.

Please consider donating to Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation for Childhood Cancer.

The post How This 1950s Lemonade Stand Became an Agent for Change appeared first on Saveur.

When you look around Portugal’s Vinho Verde region, which is blanketed with emerald vineyards, it will seem obvious how the area got its name. But verde (Portuguese for green) refers to the style of wine—meant to be enjoyed soon after bottling—for which the region is best known: light, fresh, and quaffable, with just a hint of spritz to tease the tongue. It would be a shame to pigeonhole Vinho Verde, though, as just a place for picnic wines. Throughout the years, a focus on single-varietal bottlings such as Alvarinho, Loueiro, and other native grapes began to reveal a more complex side to Vinho Verde. Quinta de Santiago is among the wineries ushering in a renaissance.

Vinho Verde—including its especially celebrated winemaking subregion of Monçao e Melgaço—is nestled in the northwestern part of the country, where Spain winks at you from just a couple of miles away. This area is renowned for Alvarinho, a distinctive style of wine with bright citrus and tropical notes, not to mention salinity and minerality, that can be attributed to the location’s granitic soils and warmer climate. Bordered by the Minho River, and still relatively close to the ocean, the volley of sea and land provides some of the most soulful cuisine in all of Portugal, and Spain’s influence kisses many of the dishes. (Bacalhau, or cod, is popular—instigated by the Bacalhau Campaign, a mandate set in 1934 to expand the cod fishing industry in Portugal—and the abundance of livestock farms means lamb and pork weigh heavily into the diet.) It’s here in Monçao e Melgaço where Quinta de Santiago got its start.

The land on which this winery sits was purchased in 1899 by the great-grandfather of current proprietor Joana Santiago. Grapes were an afterthought on the family estate; fruit, livestock, and grains were the heart of the farm. The recognition of VinhoVerde as an official wine region in 1908—and the potential for a new agricultural industry—didn’t sway the polyculture on the estate either. It wasn’t until the 1970s, when growers in the region noticed that the Alvarinho grape variety was thriving more than the red grapes, that this type of wine saw a renaissance in Melgaço and began to supplant many of the less profitable red grapes. Joana’s grandmother, Maria de Lima Esteves Santiago, began to take an interest in viticulture—and quietly transformed the estate.

Affectionately called Mariazinha by her family, she was what one might now call a garagiste winemaker (someone who makes wine casually at home). She lacked formal wine training but built upon the rudimentary winemaking knowledge that was freely shared among neighbors to produce small amounts of wine. Flouting government regulations, Maria sold her back-of-house wines through the front door of the family home, while keeping up a legitimate business selling grapes.

The moon and its cycles influenced her work. She followed its rhythms, letting it dictate when to prune and plant. (For example, when the moon is in a descending phase in the sky, energy is directed towards roots and soils; this is the time to prune vines and spread compost.) A focus on natural composting to limit chemical fertilizers helped nurture the soils and the vines. Although her practices weren’t given any particular name at the time, she essentially followed what would today be considered biodynamic farming. 

As a young girl, Joana spent every vacation at her grandmother’s property working alongside Mariazinha in the vineyards and fields. Although Joana says the family was fairly aristocratic, the farm and the winery were Maria’s domain. “I never even saw my grandpa enter the winery,” Joana recalls with a laugh. And when Joana and Maria would retire for the day, they would head to the kitchen. Like her winemaking, Maria’s cooking was also guided by her intuition. Although she had collections of recipes, she still let her senses make the final decision when it came to adding a pinch of salt or extra dash of spice. Joana attributes her love of both cooking and winemaking to Maria. 

It might seem strange to make a life change at the age of 86, but when stars align, certain choices become inevitable. Not only was Monçao e Melgaço gaining popularity for its wines, Joana was then pregnant with her first child and ready to quit her job as a lawyer to build a business. “My grandmother challenged me not to start anything else,” Joana recalls. Maria pointed to the beautiful fruit on her vines and the popularity of her garagiste wines—and announced it was time to stop selling grapes and start making wine under the family name.

Joana’s father joined the ambitious women in the endeavor, and the Quinta de Santiago label instantly became a multigenerational affair. But Maria spearheaded the operation. She was the one to name the estate and put the now-signature hearts—inspired by embroidery styles of the region—on the label. She also worked with a trained winemaker to further refine the operation’s techniques.

Sadly, Maria passed away two years later. “2010 was the only vintage she ever saw in the market,” says Joana. But her legacy lives on through the estate’s winemaking techniques. Quinta de Santiago uses native yeasts for fermentation, which is not a very common practice in the region. Instead of immediately pressing and separating the juice from the skins, the winemakers put the wine through a short period of maceration to give it a bit of texture. And they continue to work as sustainably as possible in the winery and the vineyards, prioritizing water conservation, especially when it comes to irrigating vineyards, and limiting chemical use. The winery also actively participates in the Porto Protocol, an international non-profit organization focused on combating climate change in the wine industry. Joana’s grandmother’s presence still lingers in the estate, with Joana constantly pushing and evolving what is possible with their wines. And because bright acidity runs through all the bottles, the wines seem to channel the very energy of Maria herself. 

Given the estate’s focus on single-varietal whites, especially Alvarinho, it’s no surprise that white wines grace the table more often than reds in Joana’s home. Fermentation in oak barrels and judicious use of malolactic fermentation provides a roundness and structure to the citrus fruits that enable the whites to pair well with Maria’s rich or even unctuous dishes, some of which are preserved in her worn, dog-eared handwritten cookbooks, which are some of Joana’s most cherished possessions. Octopus rice is a must-have during the holidays, while lamb Monção roasted in the estate’s wood-burning oven always fills the kitchen with toasty aromas. One of Joana’s particular favorites is ham pudim, which reminds her of her grandmother’s sweet tooth.

Maria set in motion a new identity for the family—as winemakers. She taught them to take risks, to prioritize sustainability and low-intervention winemaking, and to make drinkers rethink what they know about wines from the Vinho Verde region. Today, Quinta de Santiago has graduated from a backyard project to a full-fledged winery—and Maria’s vision continues to be the guiding light.

Recipes

Foda à Moda de Monção (Portuguese-Style Leg of Lamb with Saffron Rice)

Tomato and Octopus Rice

Bacalao a Monção

Pudim Abade de Priscos

The post In Portugal’s Vinho Verde, Wine Is Green in More Ways Than One appeared first on Saveur.

The way we eat is changing. And that’s a good thing.

Food systems leave a major mark on the environment—from agriculture utilizing half of the world’s habitable land and the majority of its freshwater, to livestock production generating 14.5% of greenhouse gas emissions. With the global population expected to reach 9.8 billion by 2050—that’s two billion additional mouths to feed—the world will need to ramp up food production by around 70 percent. 

Meeting that demand in ways which are gentle on the environment is one of the most pressing challenges for society today. Scientists, horticulturalists, and chefs who care about feeding the world and doing it sustainably are taking steps to develop environmentally conscientious growing practices and food products. The trails they’re blazing around the globe will shift not only how we cultivate our food, but also what ingredients we’re piling onto our plates.

Today is a day to be especially excited about the innovations and solutions helping us build more sustainable—and hopefully more delicious—food systems for the future. In honor of Earth Day, here are some of the trends shaping what and how we eat.

1. We’ll see agriculture take a (literal) high-low approach

If the food industry learned anything from the Covid-19 pandemic, it is just how fragile the foundations of food production can be. Systems that depend less on manual labor and weather conditions are more likely to be sustainable and resilient. One solution? Raising crops indoors, even in urban spaces, with a little help from high-tech. 

Vertical farms around the world are planting onward and upward. These environment-controlled nurseries grow crops in stacked layers, utilizing technology like hydroponics and aeroponics to eliminate the need for soil or sunlight, while artificial intelligence tailors parameters like humidity and temperature to optimize climatic conditions for each crop. Compared to traditional row farming, vertical farms produce a higher crop yield with less space requirement. Willo, a San Jose-based company that delivers vertically farmed produce directly to paying subscribers, will soon release a mobile app in 2022 that enables members to curate and monitor the crops they want Willo to grow on their plot. On the opposite coast, the direct-to-consumer subscription-based Farm.One, which delivers fresh greens from its vertical farms in New York City to customers on a weekly basis, has plans to expand to other cities this year. In Copenhagen, Nordic Harvest employs wind energy to grow carbon-neutral greens and herbs in Europe’s largest vertical farm. Even Iceland (where only a small percentage of the land is considered arable) is sowing skyward: the vertical farm VAXA grows a variety of greens and herbs just 10 minutes from the heart of Reykjavik. 

While some cities are planting up, others are planting down. Abandoned subterranean spaces can (surprisingly) be the perfect home for seeds to blossom. In France, Cycloponics is cultivating drought-resistant vegetables and mushrooms hydroponically in unused Parisian parking lots below ground, where temperatures tend to remain steady and energy-efficient LED illumination takes care of crops’ light requirements. Growing Underground in London carries out similar methods in a World War II air raid shelter, situated 33 meters underfoot.  

2. We’ll be eating more meat from labs, not lots

Eaters of the future may not have to entirely give up the taste of meat in order to go meatless. Researchers around the world are working to develop lab-grown meat—that doesn’t require any animal pens. Unlike plant-based alternatives such as Beyond Meat, cultured meats are grown from cells taken from live animals, in a process that does not involve slaughtering the animal. Though it will certainly take time for lab-grown meat production to rise to the scale of the livestock industry, Singapore is one country leading the efforts.  

In December 2020, the Singapore Food Agency became the world’s first regulatory body to approve the commercial sale of lab-grown meat. Later that month, cell-based chicken from San Francisco-based Eat Just appeared on the dinner menu at the restaurant 1880 in Singapore. Cultured chicken was also served at one of the country’s famous hawker stalls, Loo’s Hainanese Curry Rice, for the first time earlier this year in a partnership with Eat Just’s GOOD Meat. 

And the country isn’t stopping at just chicken. Singapore-based Shiok Meats produces lab-grown shrimp, lobster, and crab. The company plans to take its cell-based crustacean meat commercial in 2023.

3. We won’t just be breathing air—we’ll be eating it, too

It’s hard to imagine any food more futuristic than one created from nothing. That’s the mission of Finland-based startup Solar Foods: to produce protein from little more than microbes and air. According to the company’s website, “We feed the microbe like you would feed a plant, but instead of watering and fertilising it, we use mere air and electricity.” Air supplies the hydrogen and carbon that allow the microorganisms to grow and multiply in a bioreactor—producing protein. Once the protein is dried, what remains is a powder that the company calls Solein, and its nutritional profile is similar to that of soy- and animal-based proteins. Commercialization isn’t slated to begin until 2023, but the technology has already caught the attention of a high-profile agency: NASA recently recognized Solar Food in the Deep Space Food Challenge, a competition that challenges innovators to devise minimal-waste food production solutions.

Another startup pulling protein from the atmosphere is Air Protein, a California-based company converting oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon dioxide into protein through a fermentation process that deploys probiotic cultures. The resulting protein-rich flour is then combined with other ingredients and flavors to create food products that approximate meats like chicken and beef—though few people outside the company have tasted them so far. If you’re curious, you won’t have to wait long; once approved by the U.S. Department of Agriculture, “Air Chicken” could hit a supermarket near you as early as next year. 

4. We’ll continue to move vegetables to the front burner (and fire pit)

It’s no secret that if we all ate a little less meat, we could collectively make a significant dent in global carbon emissions. Some of the world’s most recognizable tastemakers are leading by example to inspire others to tweak their diets.

In 2022, three-Michelin-starred Copenhagen restaurant Geranium, which currently ranks number two on the World’s 50 Best list, stopped serving meat products. Chef Rasmus Kofoed himself stopped eating meat five years ago and recently decided to shift the focus of his restaurant to vegetable-centered offerings (though some seafood dishes remain on the menu). New York City’s three-Michelin-starred Eleven Madison Park also made headlines when it famously reopened as plant-based in June 2021.

Even Francis Mallmann, the famed chef known for utilizing Patagonian fire-cooking methods to scorch and smolder meat, is turning his attention to the world of plants. In his upcoming cookbook Green Fire, Mallmann teaches us how to invigorate vegetables and fruits with spices, garnishes, and his signature live-fire char. 

5. We’re refreshing spirits with more sustainable production methods 

The cultivation of cereal crops like wheat and barley, which are used to distill spirits, usually leans on synthetic nitrogen fertilizers, which not only undermine water and soil quality but also require extensive energy to produce. Peas, however, grow just fine without these fertilizers. In search of a climate-friendlier way to distill liquor, Arbikie Highland Estate in Scotland figured out how to concoct gin and vodka using the legumes as a starch source. What’s more, the farm turns any residual waste from the pea crops into high-protein animal feed, an upcycling practice that can diminish the amount of carbon emissions originating from feed production. 

Also thinking outside the bottle is Endless West, a California startup that aims to reduce the amount of resources and time required to make liquor. Instead of distilling grains into alcohol, the company harnesses technology that pulls molecules from various plants and yeast. The end results are whisky, bourbon, and scotch—minus the barrels and aging time.

In the winemaking process, the pomace—unused parts of the grape, like skins and seeds—typically get tossed. But one maker’s waste is another’s treasure. Discarded Spirits, a beverage company in the U.K., repurposes those leftover bits by turning them into vodka. The company also recovers cascara (the husks of coffee cherries) to make vermouth, and transforms banana peels into rum. 

6. We’re regreening the desert—and transforming sand into fertile land

The UN’s Great Green Wall is helping African countries curb desertification. First launched in 2007, this initiative originally aimed to plant a 5,000-mile belt of trees stretching across the continent, to regreen the land and shield it from the winds whipping Saharan sands southward. But the program has also pivoted to focus more on introducing smaller, community-based projects that impede land degradation, revive crop cultivation, and improve food security in vulnerable areas. In Senegal, for example, trees are being grown in strategic circles to maximize water retention and species survival. The initiative is also providing seeds to local farmers in the Sahel and Horn of Africa regions and teaching them how to incorporate the benefits of trees into their farming practices. In Burkina Faso and Niger, farmers have already successfully regenerated vast expanses of arid space as productive farmland. One innovation that’s bolstering the fight against desertification is Liquid Nanoclay, a mixture of water and clay created by Norwegian agri-tech company Desert Control for spraying on sand to improve water retention and soil fertility. The startup has transformed desert areas in Dubai into agricultural land.

7. We’ll be looking at packaging for more than just the ingredients

Labels on packaged foods at the grocery store are nothing new, but going forward, they could announce not only the foods’ nutritional value but also their environmental impact. Last year, the non-profit organization Foundation Earth launched a pilot test in the U.K. introducing color-coded eco-labels that invite shoppers to consider a product’s environmental footprint. Chains like Sainsbury’s, Costa Coffee, and Marks & Spencer participated in the experiment. The foundation plans to unveil an eco-score system in 2022 that can be used across Europe. Similar ratings will likely appear in more restaurants soon, too (Chipotle already lets customers who place digital orders track how sustainable the ingredients are).

And speaking of dining out, you should expect to see fewer and fewer single-use containers in your food deliveries. In New York City, a company called DeliverZero enables eateries to dispatch deliveries in reusable containers that can be returned to any of almost 150 participating restaurant partners. On a smaller scale, Parisian eatery Rose Kitchen in the Marais started offering delivery in stackable metal containers (inspired by lunch tins from the owner’s native Thailand) earlier this year, which regulars can now buy and bring in to be refilled—a small gesture that, when adopted by many, can make a significant and meaningful impact.

The post 7 Sustainable Food Trends That Hint At How We’ll Be Eating in the Future appeared first on Saveur.

“Evolutionarily, if you’re a baby oyster, the best place to settle is going to be where there are adult oysters that have grown up and survived,” explains Robert Dunn, Ph.D, an ecologist and research coordinator for the North Inlet-Winyah Bay National Estuarine Research Reserve. 

With extensive salt marshes and estuaries for oysters to call home, South Carolina’s Lowcountry has long been a favored environment of the saltwater bivalves. Dunn explains that oysters have “been a resource for millennia, going back to Indigenous [communities],” who relied on the marine creatures as a food source and also heaped the shells and other cultural materials into refuse mounds called middens. (Up and down the Atlantic Coast of the U.S., middens are now helping archaeologists study these Indigenous people’s ways of life). But when the Industrial Revolution ushered in the mass harvesting of shellfish, overfishing and pollution disrupted oysters’ ecosystems and slashed their numbers. Current populations across the country are only a fraction of their historic levels.

Today, South Carolina is actively working to restore and sustain its wild oysters. To help maintain existing habitats, the state requires licenses for the recreational and commercial harvesting of shellfish, and controls where and when harvesting activity can take place. South Carolina’s Department of Natural Resources has also deployed initiatives to recycle and replant oysters shells; its South Carolina Oyster Restoration & Enhancement (SCORE) program operates drop-off points around the state where residents can bring shells to reseed back into the ocean.

Oyster shells, both live and dead, provide the main habitat for the next generation of oysters by serving as anchors to which babies can attach themselves. An entire cluster of the mollusks can grow from a single shell. Returning shells to the state’s estuaries ensures that any larvae looking for a home can find something to which it can adhere. “There’s plenty of baby oyster larvae floating around in the water, at least at the moment,” explains Dunn. “Really what we’re limited on is substrate in the estuaries for those little larval oysters to settle on and grow up to become juveniles and then reproductive adults.”

The importance of replenishing this finite substrate is the reason many restaurants serving oysters in the Lowcountry will, after diners have slurped up the flesh, save and recycle the empty shells. Oyster consumption is deeply embedded in the culinary tradition of South Carolina, where community oyster roasts and raw bar gatherings are popular pastimes; this means local seafood distributors and eateries, as oyster purveyors, have an especially important part to play in preserving that valuable substrate.

Chef Shaun Brian Sells and seafood distributor Chris John, co-founders of CudaCo. Seafood House in Charleston, are among South Carolina’s oyster aficionados making it a priority to return shells to the ocean and upkeep the estuaries from which they harvest. Not only do Sells and John recycle oyster shells to bring them back to the coastal waters (collection bins were scattered throughout the space at an event they held recently during the Charleston Wine + Food Festival), they also collect the sediment that remains after washing their harvested shellfish. That material could include living bits of the ecosystem, such as crabs, baby oysters, and pluff mud. “All the things that the ecosystem already needs and is already thriving with—it’s right there.”

Sells believes restoration efforts must build strength in numbers by rallying a spirit of collective involvement. That’s why he and John also educate the community through events like boat excursions, taking visitors to the oyster beds so they can understand firsthand why it’s important to harvest the mollusks responsibly and recycle the shells.

Continued regeneration of the state’s oyster populations ensures the wild shellfish can carry on as a beloved food source in the Lowcountry, a region known for producing oysters with a uniquely briny, earthy flavor profile. “I would like to create a more plentiful, more abundant situation for our future,” says Sells. “We can focus on this local ecosystem that we have here and be stewards of it.” 

The critical nature of oysters in the ecosystem is difficult to overstate, as the saltwater mollusks sustain not only other oysters but also a bevy of marine life. Along the Atlantic shoreline of the United States, the Eastern oyster is considered a foundation species, meaning the bivalves serve as the backbone of complex marine communities and promote biodiversity. Oysters cluster together as part of their natural life cycle, forming reefs that provide habitat for fish, crabs, and other marine creatures. “The little tiny fish, they need somewhere to hide,” says Joe Lotts, owner of Charleston Outdoor Adventures, a boat tour agency that works with Sells and John to organize excursions. “If we don’t have oyster beds, we don’t have small fish. We don’t have big fish, we don’t have sharks.” The health of oyster populations, whether positive or negative, has a disproportionate effect on the resilience of the entire ecosystem, which is why the state closely monitors harvesters. “If [John] takes out ‘x’ bushels, he has to put ‘x’ bushels of dead oyster shells back,” Lotts adds, noting that South Carolina revokes the licenses of those who don’t establish this equilibrium. 

In addition to being the bedrock of many underwater communities, oysters also help maintain the cleanliness of South Carolina’s coastal waters. “This is the filter for the ocean,” Lotts explains. The bivalves purify the water of excess nitrogen, with an adult oyster capable of cleaning up to 50 gallons of water every day. “Tide comes in, dirty water comes in from the ocean, gets filtered by oysters. Water goes back out clean.” Lotts points out that even the local tourism industry relies on the ripple effects of oysters’ water-purifying abilities. “[Tourists] want to go to beautiful beaches, they want to come out on boat trips, and they want to see dolphins,” he says.

For oyster larvae to grow into robust filterers, available substrate to anchor them is a necessity. Actual shells are the most ideal option, but since quantities are still limited, ecologists are also researching the efficacy of man-made or recycled materials such as porcelain, limestone, crushed concrete, and non-oyster shells. “Oysters will settle on a variety of different substrates,” explains Dunn, but notes that “the calcium carbonate that makes up oyster shells are what is most attractive to a settling oyster larva.”

Oysters are a beloved food in South Carolina, and the state is working hard to rebuild coastal reefs that will support and sustain future oyster populations. “I don’t want to discourage folks from getting out and picking their own oysters and having a great day on the water,” says Dunn. Still, it’s worth keeping in mind that every shell removed from the estuary could be the base for next year’s new oysters. “Once you lose that natural shell base, it’s going to be a long time before you get enough recruitment in your oyster population to keep it sustainable.” 

It’s clear that the cultural, economic, and environmental contributions of oysters run deep in the Lowcountry. The best way for humans to return the favor? Recycle those shells. 

The post South Carolina Wants You To Recycle Your Empty Oyster Shells appeared first on Saveur.

On a chilly, sunny January morning, I arrive at Oyster Club, a relaxed restaurant in Paris’ Marais neighborhood, just a short walk from the Seine. The city is still waking up and inside the restaurant, the only sounds are the purr and rattle of the espresso machine. Sunlight streams in through the large, street-facing windows and spills over the wooden bar. The decor is rustic-nautical, with reclaimed wooden tables and porthole mirrors adorning the walls. Mollusks from Brittany and Normandy are the house specialty. 

It’s a shade before 10 in the morning when Adèle Grunberger and Tanguy Thomassin, the young proprietors, offer me a huître. Thomassin speedily shucks then hands me a single shivering oyster. “You have to eat the adductor muscle,” he says. “A lot of people leave that behind.” I do as told and my mouth salivates instantly, flooded with the taste of the sea. If only it weren’t too early for a sip of cold wine to go with. As it happens, that’s what we’re there to chat about: the best wines to pair with raw, briny oysters. 

According to an age-old rule of thumb, oyster season runs from September through April, also called the “R months.” Abstaining from oysters during the summer months is partly a reproduction issue; the annual spawning period renders oysters “laiteuse,” or filled with a milky liquid, giving them a creamier mouth feel that most people—around 80 percent of consumers, according to some counts—don’t like. (Though I should note, some, including my mother-in-law, relish their oysters laiteuse.) It was also a refrigeration issue. According to Thomassin, coastal locations aside, oysters had to be transported long distances by horse-and-carriage, sans cooler. You can imagine why it became commonplace to avoid such a fine delicacy during the dog days of summer. 

These days, you can find good oysters year-round. “The peak reproduction period usually lasts less than a month,” says Thomassin, and to adjust for that window of time, Oyster Club sources from multiple producers to avoid serving laiteuse varieties. 

When considering the oyster, certain flavor profiles come to mind: briny, creamy, metallic. On their own, the species may or may not be an aphrodisiac, but washed down with the perfect wine, it’s hard to argue with the fact that they make you feel a certain way. The classic French pairing, according to Grunberger and Thomassin, is Muscadet from the Loire Valley. Made from the Melon de Bourgogne grape, Muscadet has high acidity, a touch of salinity—which plays particularly well off the oyster’s brininess—and characteristic mineral notes. “Our clients love minerality with oysters,” Grunberger tells me. 

Wines made with the chenin blanc grape, which also has high acidity, are never a bad idea. One of Grunberger and Thomassin’s favorites include a Savennières from Domaine des Forges. The dry white from the Loire River’s north bank is cultivated on schist soils covered with aeolian sands, which impart a deep, oyster-friendly minerality. Thomassin hands me a bottle of an organic chenin blanc from a family-run vineyard in Chinon, Domaine de la Marinière; when I taste it later, it’s tannic and dynamic, with bright acidity that calls out for shellfish.

Another characteristic Thomassin suggests consumers keep in mind is alcohol level. “We try to serve light wines because the oyster is so subtle,” he says. “Too much alcohol will dominate the flavor and leave no room for the oyster.” 

Oyster Club also recommends dry Champagne or any similar sparkling wines. Cremant from the Jura or Loire Valley, for example, complements oysters’ salty-sweet “noisette” flavor. When I suggest that the increasingly trendy pét-nat might hold its own, both Grunberger and Thomassin agree, especially if you’re after a wine with a gentler effervescence, as natural fermentation tends to produce softer bubbles. Grunberger further suggests that an edgy orange wine—with pithy citrus notes and a tinge of bitterness—can also provide an interesting counterbalance to the oyster’s brininess. One of her favorites is Orange Is The New White, a skin-contact pét-nat from André Kleinknecht in Alsace.

Winemakers, of course, have their own strategies for pairing with oysters. According to Marianne Fabre-Lanvin, co-founder of Souleil, a new organic wine company from southern France, terroir can also be your guide. Like long-lost siblings, wine and oysters produced in the same region have an undeniable correspondence. 

“For our white wine, we use a grape called piquepoul,” Fabre-Lanvin tells me. “It’s indigenous to a specific area in the South of France and has a rare salinity because the soil gets a lot of salted water from a nearby lagoon and the Mediterranean. Enjoyed together, both the wine and oysters are especially refreshing.”

That said, while terroir can be a guide, Fabre-Lanvin doesn’t feel it should be a limitation. “I had oysters with a friend in New York the other night,” she says. “We paired Long Island oysters with Souleil’s white and it was perfect.” 

An oyster aficionado raised in the South of France, you might say Fabre-Lanvin and her business partner, Thomas Delaude, developed their white wine with a plate of raw oysters in mind—I can attest, the combination makes for a sublime apéro. In fact, the pair are so passionate about aquatic creatures that Souleil directly supports nonprofits that protect them. Said Marianne, “Thomas and I grew up next to the Mediterranean, so we launched our company to help shine a light on nonprofits that focus on ocean preservation. Our team participates in their clean-up events, and we rally our friends to make a greater impact.”

Made largely with grenache, Souleil’s rosé also makes a fine match for oysters. “It’s an indulgent pairing, especially in warmer months,” Fabre-Lanvin explains. “They’re both lush and gourmand.” Dry rosé often goes well with oysters, she adds, so long as it’s well-chilled, so that the fruit notes do not overpower the seafood. “But it shouldn’t be too cold either,” she warns. 50 to 55 degrees Fahrenheit is a good target.

Inspired by these conversations, I later decide to travel to Cancale, a small town in Brittany known for its oyster market. Oyster Club sources some of their oysters here, as did Louis XIV—rumor has it he had the town’s fresh mollusks delivered to Versailles daily. The market is perched alongside the Mont Saint-Michel bay, overlooking rows of oyster beds. Seagulls swoop for emptied shells discarded like shrapnel beside the plankton-filled water. 

Together with my husband, Guillaume, and my daughter, Mimi, we peruse the handful of blue-and-white-striped stalls, each offering a selection of oysters for as little as five euros a dozen. We choose a vendor—a woman wearing the local uniform of puffer jacket and rubber wellies—then idle while she shucks as effortlessly as one might butter a toasted bagel. Nearby, a few people stand in line by a wine truck selling cold bottles of Muscadet and Sancerre, the din of the market occasionally punctuated by the pop of another bottle being uncorked.

With our plate of oysters, adorned by a single halved lemon, we sit on the stone steps between the market and the bay. I pass Guillaume the chilly cremant stashed in my tote bag. He gives it some muscle, and pop, our drinks are ready. Mimi stomps on piles of empty shells, evidence of many a satisfied customer, as Guillaume and I toss back the briny, faintly nutty oysters—adductor muscle and all—and sip the bright and minerally sparkling wine. It’s as fine a pairing as nature could have created. We polish off a dozen in minutes, along with our wine, and a hazy contentment settles over me.

Recipe

Oysters with Griddled Lemon “Curd”

The post Raw Bar Season is Upon Us—Here’s What 3 French Wine Pros Pair With Their Oysters appeared first on Saveur.

Thanks to the marvels of modern refrigeration and shipping, buying seafood has never been easier. Fillets, half sides, and steaks are readily available from most grocery store fishmongers these days. But the pleasure of nose-to-tail dining, and with it, a better understanding of what’s on our plates is unbeatable—not to mention more sustainable. Maybe you like to catch your own. Or maybe you like to pick up an extra-fresh catch from the docks. Either way, knowing how to clean a whole fish is a useful skill for any home cook. 

Last month, while the SAVEUR team was in South Carolina for the Charleston Wine & Food Festival, I met up with James London, chef-owner of Chubby Fish, a dinner-only neighborhood restaurant spotlighting exclusively local seafood. London is an avid fisherman who is committed to serving responsibly caught fish. He’s also a generous teacher, and he invited me into his kitchen to demonstrate how he likes to fabricate the gorgeous whole fish he brings in from his purveyors. The species he was working with that morning was a grunt—a small, round, by-catch species identified by its bright orange mouth. The method he demonstrated will work well for round fresh- or saltwater fish of any size, including cod and salmon. Ready to take matters into your own hands? Here’s London’s step-by-step tutorial on how to clean a fish.

Set Up Over the Sink and Trim the Fins.

Cut down on clean-up by positioning a large wire rack directly over the sink; this will be your work surface for the first half of the process. (You can also work right in the sink if you don’t have a wire rack.), Place your fish on the rack, then use sharp kitchen shears to clip away all of the fins. Most round fish (think red snapper and branzino) have five fins (flatfish, like flounder and sole, have different anatomy.) The dorsal fins are located on the top of the fish, sometimes in two parts, or otherwise in one long fin. The anal fin is at the bottom, closer to the tail. Two pectoral fins can be found on either side, just behind the head; the pelvic fins are beneath the fish’s chin. 

Scale the Fish.

An inexpensive scaler makes quick work of removing the fish’s tough outer layer. To begin, turn on a slow stream of cold running water; scaling under the stream directly into the sink prevents scales from flying everywhere as you work. They’ll get caught in the drain and you can discard them when you’re done. Then, hold the scaler in your dominant hand while you hold the fish with your non-dominant hand. Using gentle but firm pressure, run the textured side of the scaler against the side of the fish in long strokes, from tail to head. “The places where the scales are most difficult to remove are by the chin and at the base of the tail on the bottom,” London explains, so make sure to concentrate on those spots. Run your hands in both directions over the fish to feel for any remaining scales, then give it a good rinse.

Remove the Guts.

Starting at the bottom of the fish, near the tail, slide your shears into the belly and snip open from the tail to the chin. Tuck your fingers into the opening and pull out and discard the contents. Give the fish a good rinse inside and out to wash away any blood. Next, pry open the gills behind the eyes, and using your finger, pull out the u-shaped cartilage; this will remove any guts that remain in the fish. Rinse once more, and with the water running into the cavity, run your finger along the inside spine, washing away the bloodline.

Set Up Your Fillet Station.

Pat the fish dry with paper towels, then transfer to a cutting board. A clean, dry work surface is mportant, not only for sanitation purposes, but also for safety—excess moisture can lead to slipping and sliding as you cut.

Kitchen shears and a sharp fillet knife are essential for the following steps. London loves the inexpensive Dexter knife, which can be used for breaking down a chicken or even deboning a leg of lamb. This model is easy to find, holds a sharp edge, and has a flexible blade. “All the professionals use it,” he tells me, “and you can just sharpen it on a steel,” making the Dexter a perfect choice for the home cook. London also loves a traditional Japanese-style blade called a deba, which is specifically designed for filleting; its one-sided bevel shaves close to the bones, resulting in an exceptionally clean cut.

Score the Skin.

Use the fingertips of your non-dominant hand to find the soft spot on top of the fish’s head, then, insert the tip of the knife gently. Hold the fish firmly in place, then run the tip of the knife down the spine, scoring the skin from the base of the head all the way down to the tail.

Slice Away the Fillet.

Following the initial cut and using no more than an inch of the blade, make long strokes with your knife to gradually slice away the fillet, while your other hand lifts the fillet as you go. (By lifting the fillet, you expose the bones, so you can see and follow the natural shape of the fish.) Try to keep your knife as close to the bones as possible as you work your way down towards the belly to keep as much of the flesh intact as possible. If you can hear the knife click against the bones as you slice, it means you’re on the right track; if not, angle the knife downwards to bring the edge closer to the ribs.

Once you make it down the belly, the fillet should only still be attached at the tail and the head ends. Place the palm of your hand over the fish, holding the fillet in place, then slide the knife between the fillet and the ribs. Carefully glide the middle of the blade through to detach the meat at both the front and back of the fish, then set the fillet aside.

Remove the Second Fillet.

Flip the fish over so the head is now pointed towards your non-dominant hand. Use the tip of the knife to cut behind the fins, then, starting at the belly, cut along the collar bone in a u-shape, towards both the spine and the soft spot of the head. Next, starting from the tail this time, use the tip of your knife to score the skin along the spine once again until you reach the head. Repeat the same long shallow strokes as before to slice the second fillet away from the ribs. “The fish will tell me where to go,” London explains, “it tells me if I’m getting in too far and where I need to steer my knife along the bones.” At this stage, the fillet will only be attached at the tail; while holding the fillet down with your palm, use the middle of the blade to cut away that piece. Now you will have two fillets and the carcass of the fish. Reserve the fillets to cook however you like; the bones can be reserved for fish fumet or stock which can be used in soups or paella, or as a poaching liquid.

Skin the Fish.

At this stage, you can cook your fillets as-is. However, if you want to remove the skin, keep going. Position one of the fillets skin-side-down, with the tail end pointing toward your non-dominant hand. Grip the knife in your dominant hand and make a shallow cut into the flesh just where it meets the skin. Grab the piece of released skin and, with your knife under the meat and parallel to the cutting board, wiggle the skin and knife as you work your way down the fillet, gently separating it from the skin. You can save the skin along with the bones for stock, or discard. 

At this point, you can prepare the fllets right away, or otherwise wrap them in damp paper towels and transfer to the fridge for up to a day.

The post How To Clean a Fish So You Can Bring Your Catch Right to the Table appeared first on Saveur.

Food is more than what’s on the plate. This is Equal Portions, a series by editor-at-large Shane Mitchell, investigating bigger issues and activism in the food world, and how a few good eggs are working to make it better for everyone.

“Making a bean suit has the power to bring people together,” says Devin DeWulf, founder of the Krewe of Red Beans. “It creates a sense of belonging and community, a powerful and healing thing, especially in times of distress like a hurricane or pandemic.” 

DeWulf ate beans twice a day as an exchange student in Brazil during 2005, but when he moved to New Orleans, his love of the humble kidney bean manifested in a new creative expression for a city that marches on its stomach. Inspired by Black Masking Indians, the carnival revelers who don elaborately beaded regalia during Mardi Gras parades, DeWulf formed the Krewe of Red Beans in 2009, when two dozen friends hot-glued thousands of pounds of legumes onto playful outfits depicting swan mermaids, alligators, pirates, and skeletons to honor what DeWulf calls the “beaning season.”

New Orleanians eat red beans and rice on Mondays. While this culinary custom lacks definitive roots, it may have resulted from two household chores: doing the laundry while putting a meal on the table. Back when Creole women laboriously scrubbed linens by hand, a low-maintenance pot of beans simmering on the stove was a wash day kitchen hack that would become part of the city’s intangible culture. The first attributed recipe for haricots rouges au riz appears locally in The Picayune’s Creole Cook Book (1901) but like other food traditions that are passed down orally, the dish most likely arrived in New Orleans a century or more prior with its pan-racial founders.

The pairing of any beans and rice, often seasoned with salted meat or leftover ham bones, has a long history in Creole cultures elsewhere: diri ak pwa wouj in Haiti, arroz junto in Puerto Rico, and feijoada in Brazil, to name a few. But nowhere is this simple meal celebrated with such relish as in the parishes along the lower Mississippi River—and especially on Lundi Gras (February 28 this year) during the Krewe’s trio of walking parades when laissez le bean temps rouler, right before the rest of the city parties hard on Fat Tuesday.

The Krewe of Red Beans now numbers more than 500 revelers, and over the years, their bean suits have only become more expressive of the city’s adaptive history—cultural signifiers such as a carriage mule, a Carnival grand marshall, and voodoo saints are regularly represented—but members are required to abide by a respectful code of ethics when building their costumes. The Krewe doesn’t allow changing of skin color, appropriation of another culture’s attire, or use of derogatory and harmful messaging. “One of our members was Honduran, and she decided to reclaim the term ‘frijolera,’” says DeWulf of the offensive Hispanic slang for someone who eats beans. “But is that a word everyone should reclaim? We try to educate away from terms like that, and want everyone to feel welcome.”

Cultural reverence is reflected in all three parades organized by the Krewe: in addition to the original Red Beans route that winds around Faubourg Marigny, the Dead Beans parade centers on global afterlife beliefs in Bayou St. John, while in the Bywater, Feijao pays homage to the Carnival traditions of Brazil. “As our krewe grows, we’re expanding our celebration of places that have both Carnival and bean culture, making for a more diverse celebration here,” says DeWulf. All parades converge in Treme for a raucous street party that is pure New Orleans, complete with jazz bands and second line-style dancing, before everyone heads home to their Monday of Mondays dinner.

“My parents taught me how to cook beans,” says Vince Hayward, whose family started Camellia Brand in 1923. (In New Orleans, Camellia is synonymous with kidney beans, even though the company sells 19 dried varieties.) “We were a smoked ham hock style of bean eaters. Now, I cook beans in a crockpot, just dump the ingredients in, and dinner is ready when I get home.” 

Hayward’s bean company contributes the raw materials for the Krewe of Red Beans’ Lundi Gras parade costumes; he estimates that the company’s support for other food-oriented local initiatives—school fairs, neighborhood gardens, church groups—provides roughly 250,000 meals a year. “We’re a part of the fabric of New Orleans, a city inextricably tied to red beans and rice,” says Hayward. “In terms of being a good citizen of the community, we donate to virtually any event or fundraiser doing good deeds, no questions asked.” 

One of those foundational projects is Beanlandia. Other krewes have members-only dens, but the motto of this inclusive cultural center rising in the Bywater says it all: “Red Beans is for the people.” The Krewe of Red Beans is currently crowdfunding to convert an old warehouse into a hybrid space for a bean museum, krewe headquarters, performance hall, and neighborhood gathering place. “Beanlandia will be a creative venue for the folks who are the backbone of New Orleans culture,” says DeWulf. “Second liners, baby dolls, musicians, Mardi Gras Indians. We want to make a space that’s not just about a parade, but a mechanism to support our city.”

All this, from a little bean.

Please consider helping New Orleans’ most vulnerable culture bearers through Feed the Second Line, which delivers groceries to the elderly and creates gig opportunities for local musicians and performers.

Recipes

Red Beans and Rice

Get the recipe >

Creole Seasoning

Get the recipe >

The post How a Humble Bean Unites New Orleans on Lundi Gras appeared first on Saveur.

Food is more than what’s on the plate. This is Equal Portions, a series by editor-at-large Shane Mitchell, investigating bigger issues and activism in the food world, and how a few good eggs are working to make it better for everyone.

“Our African families require a different kind of pot than our Syrian or Afghan families,” says Nellie Beall, Director of Finance and Grants for Canopy NWA, a non-profit refugee resettlement agency based in Fayetteville, Arkansas. “They would actually like pressure cookers to make pulao, while the Congolese want a certain pot to cook ugali.” The desired pots are included in welcome kits assembled for newly arrived families from around the world. Whisks, spatulas, potholders, frying pans, casserole dishes, knives, and can openers are among the other essentials Canopy supporters have donated to help them build their kitchens from scratch. Then the refrigerator and kitchen shelves are filled with enough groceries for three days. These used to include American staples like cream cheese, but Canopy over time has adjusted the shopping lists to include ingredients from the refugees’ countries of origin. “Even five to eight years ago, we had to go to a specialty store to find things like cardamom and black mustard seeds,” says Beall, who moved to Arkansas from Kuala Lumpur in 2001. “The local grocers have come a long way.”

And then, there’s the first hot meal in their new country. Canopy sponsor teams (typically six to eight volunteers) provide a welcoming dinner for the refugees they “walk alongside” while adjusting to life in Arkansas. (This involves a mentoring commitment of six months, part of the agency’s greater “Long Welcome” community integration program.) Leah Harvey, a physical therapist and mother of two young boys, organized a taste of home for several Afghan families, who were greeted in Bentonville with Kabuli pulao, Afghanistan’s national dish. “They said it was delicious, but a little dry,” Harvey recalls. “So we still have work to do.”

Last October, a Presidential Determination authorized the admission of 125,000 refugees into the U.S. during fiscal year 2022, exponentially increasing the previous administration’s limit of 15,000. The State Department’s Bureau of Population, Refugees and Migration, which coordinates humanitarian policies, defines a refugee as someone who has “experienced past persecution or has a well-founded fear of persecution on account of race, religion, nationality, membership in a particular social group, or political opinion.” These newcomers include displaced people from conflict zones and unstable regions in Africa, Southeast Asia, Central America, and the Middle East. More recently, Afghan special visa (SIV) holders have been granted humanitarian parole for resettlement as well. Non-profit agencies and church groups then coordinate with the Department of Health & Human Services to place refugee and asylum seekers in safe, welcoming communities.

Canopy’s mission is modest compared to many similar organizations that have had longer tenures. The agency has assisted 380 people since filing for non-profit status in 2016. In comparison, close to 17,000 people from more than 40 countries have arrived in upstate New York via The Center over the past 42 years. (It was recently the focus of the documentary film Utica: The Last Refuge.) However, what Canopy lacks in scale, it makes up for in neighborly goodwill. This means teaching inexperienced newcomers to navigate life—such as how to checkout groceries at a superstore and obtain a driver’s license for the first time. 

Beall knows from firsthand experience how challenging this culture shock can be. “One of the big things that we ask our sponsor teams to do is to help with Walmart,” she says. “I know that 20 years later, even for me, the cereal aisle is visually over-stimulating. I joke about that in training sessions, but it can be overwhelming to have so many options for just one item.”

This applies to condiments and sodas as well. “There’s only one Mountain Dew back home,” says Ahmad Ghani Ghani, Canopy’s Employment Specialist Aide. “Afghans are not used to different kinds of flavored milk or yogurt. I just tell others to buy basic ketchup, salt, juice.” Originally from Afghanistan’s Paktia Province, Ghani Ghani came to study in the States through the Fulbright Program in 2016, then earned a master’s degree in petroleum engineering from Missouri S&T before returning home to work for his government. He received an F1 student visa two days before the fall of Kabul. In a harrowing escape, Ghani Ghani spent a week hiding from the Taliban until, one evening, he packed his documents, some cash, and a few clothing items, then made a risky dash to the airport. He was evacuated as a humanitarian parolee to Doña Ana Range Camp in New Mexico, where he spent two months waiting for placement. Ghani Ghani chose to resettle in Northwest Arkansas because the geography was similar to the familiar “Show Me State” right next door. His immediate family remains behind in Afghanistan.

When he arrived in Fayetteville, Ghani Ghani invited Beall to dinner at his apartment with other friends and colleagues. She says the meal, a global potluck, made her homesick for Malaysia. “Our national dish is nasi lemak, but I also grew up with biryani and pulao. So when Ghani had his housewarming party, it was like going back to my mom’s kitchen. Being married into a very Southern white family, I always get served mashed potatoes with gravy, and while I enjoy the pot roast and stuff, my palate always returns to rice-based dishes.”

Beall also confirms that the region’s farmers are catering to increased demand for ingredients like water spinach, bitter melon, bok choy, fragrant rice, and chiles. Some producers are immigrants or former refugees themselves, including a growing community of Hmong Americans who dreamed of owning farmland. After all, establishing relationships with growers at weekly markets is the closest many refugees in America can come to the more personalized shopping traditions they left behind—whether hand-picking the ripest produce at a favorite street stall, or conversing with fishmongers and butchers about the daily catch and choicest cuts.   

Harvey, who learned about Canopy on Instagram, can attest that her children’s tastes are also evolving since her own family relocated from Northern Virginia over a year ago. “They have lots of new big sisters and moms,” she says. “We all meet at the town parks, which are easy to walk to.” While Harvey has allayed resettled mothers’ concerns about the availability of halal foods in Bentonville schools, she says that mentoring has been a two-way street. “Their children love eating fresh fruits and vegetables, and they aren’t really super interested in the snacky things in my big bag.” Now, instead of store-bought snack packs, Harvey shares nuts and dates at the playground.

A pot of rice or a handful of dried fruit may be a small token, but it’s a sincere gesture of welcome that, for those who can’t return home for a while, invites them into a new one.

Please watch an extended trailer for Utica: The Last Refuge and consider supporting your nearest resettlement program. This interactive map offers a state-by-state listing of current resources.

The post Familiar Flavors Offer Refugees a Taste of Home in Northwest Arkansas appeared first on Saveur.

An Upstate New York bakery is taking a big step toward a smaller carbon footprint. Bread Alone, a nearly 40-year-old bread maker in Hudson Valley, has spent four years renovating its Boiceville facility where the business was originally founded. That site will soon reopen in January as a 100 percent net zero energy operation, powered by ground- and roof-mounted solar panels.

The relaunched 8,000-square-foot facility will produce bread and pastries for all of Bread Alone’s café locations—in Boiceville, Lake Katrine, Rhinebeck, and Woodstock—as well as 12 farmers markets across New York City.

“We all need to electrify our lives as much as possible and then produce from renewable resources all the electricity that we consume,” says Nels Leader, CEO of Bread Alone and son of the company’s founder Daniel Leader. “The climate crisis is really ground zero of how we can be a responsible producer.” 

But it isn’t only food businesses that can help the earth by considering the environmental impacts of the kitchen. Leader notes that even home bakers can take meaningful steps to generate a smaller carbon footprint—and join efforts to combat climate change.

“It can start with a really small gesture,” says Leader—perhaps even something as simple as “converting, in your home, a gas appliance to an electric appliance, and then working with your utility to support renewable energy production.”

Home bakers can also think from a perspective of sustainability when determining where to buy ingredients. Leader explains that Bread Alone works closely with transparent suppliers that use organic grains and prioritize freshness, such as Farmer Ground Flour, a mill in Western New York. “Their values align [with ours], and we hope that our purchases from them help support their growth,” says Leader.

To mark the launch of its new-and-improved facility, Bread Alone plans to unveil an updated menu, including both newly developed recipes like a buckwheat Pullman bread, as well as updated classics like a 100 percent sourdough levain.

The post How a 40-Year-Old Hudson Valley Bakery Is Reimagining Itself for the Future appeared first on Saveur.