By Ashley Lodato
Some of you may have come across National Geographic’s blog called “The Plate,” which serves up daily discussions on food. Part-time valley residents Char and Ed Alkire can lay claim to some recent blog posts relevant to the valley, by virtue of their having been written by their son-in-law, Ryan Bell.
One recent article, “What happens when livestock are in the path of a wildfire,” hits very close to home, addressing the challenges faced by ranchers when wildfires threaten their herds. Many of our ranching neighbors in the valley and in the rest of the county are currently assessing losses of both livestock and rangeland, and by all accounts this year’s toll far surpasses the losses sustained in last year’s fires.
One of Bell’s more optimistic recent articles features the collaboration between grain farmer Sam Lucy of Bluebird Grain Farms and some of the vacation home landowners from whom he leases farmland (the Alkires included).
Despite sounding like just another cooking blog, The Plate — or at least Bell’s articles — focuses on food sources, not on end products. Bell’s current project, tantalizingly titled “Comrade Cowboys,” involves a nine-month trip through Russia and Kazakhstan. Apparently, when the Soviet Union fell the country’s cattle population fell by 50 percent, after which Russia and Kazakhstan spent $4 billion each year importing red meat. But eventually the governments subsidized a $10 billion project that allows farmers to import breeding cattle, equipment, and cowboy expertise to revitalize the beef industry. Five years ago, Bell was part of a team of Montana cowboys that started one of the first new ranches in Russia; now he has returned to Russia and Kazakhstan to follow the progress of the emergent cattle industry. You can read Bell’s articles online at theplate.nationalgeographic.com.
A much less controversial but well-known subversive food importation scheme in the Methow involves the practice of slipping unwanted zucchinis onto neighbors’ porches at midnight and into their cars when they run into the post office. I recently found myself actually hoping to be the victim of a giant zucchini caper, as I was trying to help a neighbor source materials for a zucchini race. I emailed a well-known gardener in the area asking about spare giant zucchinis, but he, like I, had been diligent about picking them when they were small, and thus had none.
This pillar of the community did, however, suggest that I might find some big squashes sitting outside The Cove. “You’re suggesting that I steal from the food bank?” I asked him. He noted that this was semantic quibbling, since “stealing does not belong in the same sentence as giant zucchini.” (For the record, and to preserve this fellow’s honor, I will add that he did suggest that I ask The Cove’s permission.)
