Local Gold?

As the market has shown saffron at times has toppled gold with its price per gram and in ancient times was used as currency. Here’s a nice piece about very local “saffron” from LuckyPeach.com

I was in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, visiting my mom recently, when I spied a long-forgotten fixture of the local supermarket checkout aisle: a display of Mosemann’s saffron packages, each one carefully stapled to a card background, just beyond customers’ reach. We bought one, and as I examined the familiar Pennsylvania Dutch-styled packaging, I noticed that Mosemann’s saffron comes from Spain, which struck me as odd. I’d always believed it was locally grown in central Pennsylvania. It made me wonder: was “Pennsylvanian saffron” just a local legend?

 

They Will Squash You

Kevin’s marrow is as heavy as a baby hippo (it’s arriving on the back of a tractor), and Ian’s pumpkin makes a nice chair (six humans are hoisting it onto a scale). Meanwhile, a prize-winning cabbage takes up most of a park bench, freaking out a toddler.

The U.S. produces impressively swollen pumpkins, there is a world-record marrow in the Netherlands, and strong competition from Germany, Switzerland, and Canada. But the culture of growing giant vegetables to show off is decidedly British. In the Wallace and Gromit movie The Curse of the Were-Rabbit, a village’s annual giant-veg competition comes under threat from the titular beast, and the citizens take it very seriously. In towns up and down the UK, during September and October, you can find giant-vegetable competitions wherever cell phone service gets spotty. The prizes are never as good as Gromit’s golden carrot (spoiler!), yet the competition is fierce, the anticipation high, and the parsnips twisted as all hell. (The thing to know about giant vegetables is that they are not just big; they are unrecognizable. There is the mangled hell of a giant parsnip, writhing and twisting on itself, and there is the shapely magnificence of a giant onion, shrouded in layer upon layer of golden skin.)

Urban Gardening on the Third Floor

Kerry Trueman and Matt Rosenberg began by growing tomatoes on the roof of their third-floor walk-up in the West Village more than 20 years ago.

“We didn’t know anything — we used Miracle-Gro,” said Ms. Trueman, 54, who blogs about the politics of food for Civil Eats and writes about climate change for Moms Clean Air Force. “But it changed the way I viewed things in cities. Whenever I was on a high floor, looking down, I would see all this roof space and say: ‘Wow, you could grow so much. There are no woodchucks or deer, no Japanese beetles. And so many things grow so well in containers.’ ”

They used a ladder to climb through the roof hatch then. They built large planters for strawberries and 20 different kinds of roses. They grew blueberries and corn and hops. They had to dismantle the roof garden in 1998 during a legal battle to keep their building rent-stabilized. But by then, they were hooked. “Tomatoes are the gateway drug,” Ms. Trueman said.

The Piscivore’s Dilemma

The oceans are in serious trouble, creating a tough question for consumers: Should I eat wild fish, farmed fish, or no fish at all? The author, a longtime student of marine environments, dove into an amazing new world of ethical harvesters, renegade farmers, and problem-solving scientists. The result: your guide to sustainably enjoying nature’s finest source of protein.

So much food is wasted because it’s ugly

Big Meat: The indie butcher business grows up – Quartz

Big Meat: The indie butcher business grows up – Quartz.

 

It turns out the challenge facing the meat business doesn’t come from the consumer side. Americans like meat. They didn’t need a primal food craze to convince them of that. But in places where the animals don’t come with a provenance, the butchery trade doesn’t attract new entrants because the labor economics just plain suck.