Best Food Writing 2010 Read Online Free PDF

initiative that began in northern California a few months ago. The poster, titled “Locally Grown,” displays a map of Washington state and lists the names and locations of the Washington farms—most of them large-scale commercial enterprises—that supply Seattle stores. Now, is this a success or a betrayal of the movement? The answer depends, perhaps, on the values you’re investing local foods with.
    If we’re talking about reducing food miles and strengthening your personal 100-mile food system, then it’s fantastic to see a major grocery chain prioritize Washington lettuce and carrots. But if “local foods” to you really means opting out of industrial farming, paying farm workers a living wage, buying fragile, deep-red shaksun strawberries instead of those pink monsters from California, and, above all, sustaining that oh-so-ambiguous sense of personal connection to our food—well, then, Safeway’s campaign is a cheap stunt that flouts everything good and true.
    Van Wing, for one, takes a sanguine stance regarding the future of the movement she helped publicize. “I don’t think eating only local food is ever going to be a sensible option for most people,” she says. Interregional trade has been important throughout human history, after all. She continues, “I think that there’s going to be a large change in our food delivery systems, however, and that change is beginning to happen.”
    That hipster hunt for a new farmer from Carnation, a rare heirloom variety, or some unpronounceable wine from Austria may just be the new mechanism by which great tastes get discovered and publicized. Lacinato kale, which I first discovered on restaurant menus back in the early aughts, is on every grocery store shelf now, and it’s still the kale I buy for sautéing. The heirloom tomato craze that began 15 years ago weaned me forever from February Flavr Savrs from Safeway—not because Green Zebras and Black Princes are the most interesting thing in the market, but because they made me so disgusted with mealy pink tomatoes that I’ve sworn off them throughout winter. And I take heart that the winegeek passion for scheurebes and blaufränkisches means that more restaurants will serve wines that are less jammy, more distinctive, and under $40.
    Perhaps if the locavore movement is looking for ways to expand without losing its core audience, they should look to the success of one of the world’s largest rock bands. In 2007, Radiohead—a band that could prop up the Alaskan Way Viaduct with its platinum records—pulled off a stunt that savvily maneuvered between independent and corporate tactics to market a great product. The band split from longtime label EMI, produced In Rainbows themselves, and released the album online, charging customers whatever they wanted to pay. In a Wired interview published a couple of months later, Thom Yorke claimed the release made the band more money than all its previous albums together, but acknowledged that that wouldn’t have been possible without the decade of corporate marketing that preceded it. Indie? Hardly. Pitchfork gave the album a 9.2 rating anyway.

SOUL FOOD
    By Amanda M. Faison From 5280 Magazine

O ne new trend in the meat-eating debate: The “ethical” carnivore, who gets a free pass by being willing to confront where one’s meat comes from. It’s a natural angle for food editor Faison to explore for this Denver monthly, in the heart of ranch country.
    One hundred miles east of Denver, a bison herd roams the endless horizon. Silhouetted against the frozen January sky, the beasts’ woolly humps and sheer size distinguish them from grazing cattle. We bump along in a dirt-caked GMC truck, following a crude trail of crescent-shape hoof prints. The herd hears us coming from over the rise and scatters, thunderous bodies kicking up dust and churning dried prairie grass into bits. As we get closer, a curious few turn to face us, tossing their massive, bearded heads and