Michigan News: Smartphone Meets Steer

Now this is pretty f-ing cool.

Michigan Tracks Cattle From Birth To Plate

Invasion of privacy? Maybe. Pain in the place where the sun don't shine? Oh yeah. Especially for small farmers. And no one really mentioned if the RFID tags system was cost-effective or not over the last three years. But, if it did work, that's a great way to help the commercial beef industry connect with consumers.

Food Matters

Worried about pesticides, herbicides and pesky in-laws? While I can't help you with the latter, here's a handy 2013 guide to organics, the best and worst offenders on the pesticide residue list. Enjoy!

What Foods Should I Buy Organic?

Also see Dr. Mercola's take on pesticides. 

GMO News

This site seems to have good information but is a little radical for my taste. But here's this guy's two cents and you can draw your own confusions.

Former Pro-GMO Scientist Speaks Out on the Real Dangers of Genetically Engineered Food

She Sells Food

This is so going to be me, still raising cows. Except I'll be like ninety-five, shaking my hickory stick at a just-calved momma cow, telling someone standing safely on the other side of the fence, "Oh, she's fine, just bluffin' a little aren't you momma?" Before she tosses me skyward like a Raggedy Anne doll.

Selling Food- From ABC News

The original Raggedy Ann and Andy, for those confused about what I'm talking about.

Animal Grief

While not strictly within the confines of grass and sustainable agriculture, this article intrigues me. I've seen animals grieve, horses and cattle, especially when cows lose calves. Having seen their grief helped me find my way through my own when we lost our daughter at twenty days old.

How Animals Grieve

One True Ingredient

The meal started with rice. And I’m talking long grain brown rice, no white Minute Rice or Rice-A-Roni here, my friends. I’ll admit to keeping Rice-A-Roni around for emergencies, but there’s no monosodium glutamate or hydrolyzed corn gluten in this food story.

I let the rice cook while taking care of the baby in another room and almost burned my One True Ingredient before the food story really started. (Stir before fifteen minutes are up, and use low, not 2, for realsies. Just a warning.) Luckily, The Prince of Fuss (as my father has dubbed my dubious dairy low-tolerant offspring) and I made a quick save on the rice. I added more water and when it finished cooking, added some frozen peas, letting it sit covered on the cutting board to prevent further scorching. While that settled, I chopped onions to caramelize while taking out the trash and writing intermittently on a short story. (This really has nothing to do with the meal, I’m just using it to set the scene. Most days don’t go this well but His Majesty was content to chew on his giraffe and watch from his bouncy chair.)

The key to good caramelized onions is patience, low heat, a generous amount of salt, and a good talent for keeping a screaming baby occupied while flipping onions with the other hand.

The Prince soon tired of his chair-bondage and decided being a barnacle on mommy was much better. I like that my son is part of our kitchen experience, and usually also a part of our food story. I like that he puts his hand on the bottle of olive oil I use to sear asparagus. Since its hot and he’s naked except for his diaper, I should probably wrap him in Saran Wrap from toes to neck in order to keep him safe from getting splashed by hot oil or grabbing a hot pan.

I’m just not one of those kinds of mothers.

I believe in letting kids figure things out, do what you can to keep them safe, don’t get me wrong, but the sooner you realize the stove is hot, the electric fence is on, and no one is responsible for your attitude or happiness except you, the better off you’ll be in life. As anyone whose cooked bacon topless knows, (male or female, I don’t judge), cooking is pain. (Cooking here being a metaphor for life.) My trick is grabbing hot cast iron pans out of the oven either bare-handed (“How can that be hot? It’s a pan.”) or with a wet kitchen towel as a potholder. Some people never learn.

Cooking, I find, helps you find out what kind of parent you are.

I scraped my lovely, rich caramel-colored onions into a bowl and reheated the pan for asparagus, searing it lightly before turning the heat down to cook the veggies all the way through. In also goes salt, pepper, garlic and onion powder. This last is the key and why, I finally discovered, my Spousal-Type Creature’s seared asparagus trumps mine. But no longer!

I felt like drinking a beer for the first time since our First Family Stomach Virus Extravaganza some days earlier, and selected a smooth porter we’d used to baste a brisket on Mother’s Day. I deglazed the asparagus with a little of the porter, and when that cooked down, added it to the onions and rice with peas, letting it all cook together and harmonize for a couple minutes. I had enough for quite a generous dinner and more than enough to reheat and scramble eggs into after work the next morning. 

So while The Prince fussed, alternatively kicking me and showing me how he could now grab both of his feet (serious stuff), and the cow grazed in the backyard, I drank my beer and ate my supper.

Farmers and Climate Change

Being among the first generation of farmers dealing with climate change is a frightening prospect. What kind of world am I leaving to my son? The most important things to remember if you're in the same boat is think of original solutions, think globally, micormanage your own property, and stay on your toes. We're in for a wild ride.

Reinventing Farming for a Changing Climate - NPR