Eating Animals

Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer is an exploration of factory farming, as practiced in America today, and a tale of the author’s decision to choose – not just for himself, but for his young son as well – a vegetarian diet.

You may recall that I think about this stuff a lot. While at times more radical than Michael Pollan in his criticism of supposedly humane animal farming methods (“Polyface Farm… is horrible. It’s a joke”), Foer reaches similar conclusions, namely that — with possible, but in Foer’s eyes impractical, exceptions — meat is not to be eaten. This is for two reasons:

• The suffering of factory-farmed animals, which is extreme and avoidable, if we only choose to avoid it;
• The environmental degradation caused by factory farming.

Both points were argued by philosopher Peter Singer as far back as 1975, although, curiously, the only Singer that Foer quotes (while quoting other philosophers, such as Jacques Derrida and Emanuela Cenami Spada) is Nobel Laureate Isaac Bashevis Singer (who similarly argued that animal rights are “the purest form of social-justice advocacy, because animals are the most downtrodden of all the downtrodden [...] Humans are unique, just not in ways that make animal pain irrelevant.”) Peter Singer, incidentally, took a very clear philosophical position on a not-unrelated question that Foer only hints at: “And eating animals is one of those topics, like abortion, where it is impossible to definitely know some of the most important details (When is a fetus a person, as opposed to a potential person? What is animal experience really like?) and that cuts right to one’s deepest discomforts, often provoking defensiveness or aggression.”

Both of what I call the Singer-Pollan motives, in the intervening years, have grown worse (fish farming, by the way, runs into just as many animal welfare and environmental issues as the land-based animal variety). Animal breeds have been further selected for traits that result in vicious side effects (walk? what factory-farmed animal needs the ability to walk?), and environmental and human health issues resulting from factory farming are increasingly well documented.

It is to this last point that Foer adds, it seems, more data than has been widely discussed in the past: studies by the UN and the Pew Commission show that, globally, farmed animals contribute more to climate change than the entire transport sector (cars, trains, planes and ships combined). Animal agriculture is responsible for 37 percent of anthropogenic methane and 65 percent of anthropogenic nitrous oxide: both gases are key contributors to global warming and offer many times the global warming potential of carbon dioxide.

As for human health, the impact is not just on the communities who live near factory farms (and breathe, let’s say it, powdered animal shit every day), but could be global and take a heavy toll. Antibiotics are increasingly ineffective, as we know, because farmed animals are fed antibiotics nontherapeutically: in the United States, 3 million pounds of antibiotics are given to humans each year, but 17.8 million pounds are fed to livestock (and this latter figure is underreported by 40 percent, according to the Union of Concerned Scientists). Also, while this past season’s flu was eventually much milder than anticipated, pandemic experts agree that another influenza pandemic on the possible scale of the 1918 Spanish flu is “not only inevitable, but overdue”, and that growing demand for animal protein (and therefore the increasing scale of factory farming) is a primary factor in the emergence of zoonotic diseases. Globally, the problem isn’t just that the Chinese and the Indians will want to build roads and drive cars like we do in the West: it’s that they will want to eat chicken like we do in the West.

Finally, even the meat gourmet’s alibi – the existence of luxury farms, where biodiversity is promoted and animals are grown humanely and slaughtered mercifully (it is notable that finding suitable slaughter facilities is a challenge even for the most committed humane farmers) – seems under threat: witness the departure of pioneer farmer Bill Niman from Niman Ranch in August 2007 after disagreements over animal protocols. It seems that market forces conspire towards the lowest common denominator, and premium brands are not strong enough to survive if they want to do things differently. Yet, at the high end of the market, I am incredulous that the market cannot find a solution, and I don’t want to believe that the market space for these solutions is not destined to increase. You’re telling me that you can buy a $9,000 handbag, a CHF10,000 evening with a call girl, or a $1,000 bottle of wine, but you can’t go to a premium meat store and buy a humanely farmed and humanely slaughtered €55 chicken? That sounds so wrong.

In the meantime, I sit on the fence with growing discomfort. I tell myself: I am eating meat in Argentina, in Switzerland, not in America. It may make some difference, but ultimately not a fundamental difference. And I eat meat in Italy, too, where I know nothing about the production of meat, but I suspect that factory farming isn’t all that different from what it is in America, as documented by Pollan, Foer and others. And I suspect we’ll talk about this again.

An ethical life, the eating of meat and the radical chic cook

In the last couple of weeks, I talked about food with two vegetarians. One, a colleague, has been a vegetarian for 22 years; the other, while not having planned to do so, has remained a strict vegan after ending her month-long Jivamukti Yoga teacher training last month.

I also read Writings on an Ethical Life by philosopher Peter Singer. He seems to be one of the few philosophers today who are easily understandable outside academia, perhaps because he knows that many of the themes he works on are making news headlines every day and therefore he makes an effort to discuss them in plain language. His views on the legitimacy of abortion, as well as on ending human life when it is no longer worth living, are – in my opinion – unassailibly argued. Yet, they are much less discussed than his plea for animal liberation (Animal Liberation is also the title of his best-known book, published in 1975). Coherent with this moral stance is, of course, the practice of vegetarianism, which he personally adopts.

If you accept a moral philosophy that aims to minimize the amount of pain and suffering in the world, and you accept that animals are able to feel pain, then you should not inflict avoidable pain on animals. (As a good utilitarian, Singer always tries a computation of consequences and their weighting: for example, while campaigning for an end to an overwhelming majority of animal experimentation, he does make exceptions when there are no alternatives, or when the experiment you want to perform on an animal is so important that you would perform the same experiment on a brain-damaged human). And an overwhelming proportion of our meat eating entails just such avoidable pain being inflicted on animals.

Not in the reasoning, but in his conclusions, Singer reminded me of a more recent (and very successful) book about food, The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan. Pollan’s search for sustainable food brings him to very similar conclusions to those advocated by Singer (emphasis added):

[...] the issue to focus on is not whether there are some circumstances in which it could be right to eat meat, but on what we can do to avoid contributing to this immense amount of animal suffering. The answer is to boycott all meat and eggs produced by large-scale commercial methods of animal production, and encourage others to do the same. Consideration for the interests of animals alone is enough justification for this response, but the case is further strengthened by the environmental problems that the meat industry causes.

This is where both Pollan and Singer seem to broadly agree that, if an animal has been raised in a way that respects its interests and does not result in unnecessary suffering, and if the manner of killing is painless, it would be acceptable for us to kill and eat it. Such animals, of course, are hardly anywhere to be found; vegetarianism would therefore be a practical choice for adherents of this philosophy.

I eat meat once or twice a week – I’ve never kept track. And I hardly ever eat eggs – I occasionally buy them, but mostly end up throwing them away. For years, I have lived in a household whose meat consumption patterns involuntarily approximates Pollan’s ideal. Not for ethical reasons, not for environmental reasons, but strictly for gastronomic reasons: my husband refuses to buy supermarket meat on grounds of tastelessness.

This drives him, of course, to seek out specialty meats whose provenance is traced to small-scale farms and whose price supposedly reflects its superior quality. In fact, such prices often stretch credulity (he is the only person I know to have ever brought home a free-range organic hen – to make a very superior chicken broth – for the astonishing price of 55 Euros).

Yet, I do find myself thinking about moral challenges. Unless this is wishful thinking, I am reasonably confident that the excellent beef I ate at a rustic Mendrisio restaurant last Friday comes from an organically and very sustainably raised Swiss cow (Swiss farming, as you may have heard, being quite particular about such standards). Yet, when I was in Japan, I ate Kobe beef with delight, not thinking of the deprivation that produced such tender meat.

And what about pork? What do I know about that Spanish pig whose cured meat ended up on my plate as jamon serrano, or the Italian one that resulted in the premium culatello di Zibello? What lives did such animals lead?

My husband rejects my accusation of being a radical chic cook, engaged in inventing a rich people’s diet. He retorts that he is not trying to make a fashion statement: he chooses the meats he chooses not because it’s a hip thing to do, but because he truly can tell the difference and does not want to settle for less. As a good utilitarian, he just tries to maximize the quality of the food he eats, and makes tradeoffs based on his personal preference function.

I don’t mind his approach, as long as it is consistent with the reduction of unnecessary animal suffering. (I do mind it, of course, when our fridge is full of foie gras – which luckily has not happened in recent years). I still have to work out my own. What to eat, what not to eat: the omnivore’s dilemma, indeed. In the meantime, check out the artisan beef blog Discover Beef by my friend Carrie – an entrepreneur committed to bringing you decidedly non-industrial beef.

How to set a beautiful table

True, it was Valentine’s day. Yet, I think I’ve never seen table decorations as festive as the flowers at Petermann’s Kunststuben in Küsnacht, near Zurich. Tulips, peonias, irises, anemones, roses and much more. A delight… and a hint of spring, in the midst of snow.

Human capital

I am back from two days in London and still thinking about the experience. This was a different trip for me – no museums, no galleries – just long walks, some shopping, some dining, some warming up at the fireplace in the lounge at the hotel. I must not have noticed before, but this is what hit me this time: everybody we dealt with was on top of their game. I think this means if you’re very good at something, you go do it in London. Some outstanding people were:

• The Albanian head sommelier at Gordon Ramsay’s at Claridge’s. We had very good conversations, both about wines and about Albania.
• The South Asian saleswoman who sold me two pairs of jeans (Hudson and 7 For All Mankind) after having me try on about a dozen to find, in her opinion, the perfect fit.
• The young pale blonde English woman who took us through the entire range of Jo Malone fragrances until we found the two that were just right.
• The Italian maitre and staff at Pont de la Tour, where we had a festive lunch and felt at home despite eating turkey and looking out at Tower Bridge.
• Everybody at 41 Hotel, including a concierge with the fantastically literary name of Adele Coetzee.
• The hostess at the lounge we used at Gatwick airport, who gave us a most enthusiastic overview of her facilities and truly looked sorry we couldn’t stay longer when it was time for us to board.

This sample is, I admit, biased towards the retail and hospitality sectors, places with brutal competition where staff can’t help but being eager to please in the current downturn. But if this small sample says something about the quality of human capital in London that holds true across the board, then it must be one of the reasons why London is such a great city.

Tableware designers: Consider the food

Clever design is a pleasure. But some design is so self-referential that it clashes with function to a degree that any aestehtic or intellectual pleasure in viewing the object is crushed by the discomfort in using it.

Consider the “Seconds” tableware series by designer Jason Miller. They are meant as “beautiful mistakes”. These plates are a visual pun, which is all well and good when there is no food on them. Yet, consider the food. Would any skilled chef want to serve food in these plates? No. Because, once you put food on them, you can’t “read” them anymore. The pun fails; they become indecipherable.

Contrast this design approach with the one taken by Doriana and Massimiliano Fuksas in their “Colombina” series for Alessi – my current tableware favorites. These are plates that any chef loves. They are beautiful in and of themselves, and their pattern remains fullly “readable” when they contain food, which it is their job to do.

Good clothes respect the body; good tableware respects the food.

143m pounds of beef recalled in the United States

The U.S. Department of Agriculture announced the largest beef recall in its history Sunday, calling for the destruction of 143 million pounds of raw and frozen beef from a slaughterhouse accused of slaughtering so-called “downer” cattle, or animals too weak to walk, in violation of federal food safety regulations. For us Europeans, 143 million pounds is 64,864 tons. That’s the entire production of the slaughterhouse for the past two years, the majority likely to have been already eaten, much of it in school lunches.

This is the type of news that makes you think twice about what you eat.  And feel like spending the extra buck for organic beef.

The Balsamic Vinegar Chronicles: great chefs’ recipes

Once in a while, I get to indulge in a shamelessly promotional post about our Traditional Modena Balsamic Vinegar. We’ve had a wonderful Christmas season, and we are working to help you discover more about this gastronomic wonder.

How does one use Traditional Balsamic Vinegar of this kind? That is often a question we get at tastings and other events. Well, no fear. We have engaged the creativity of some of Italy’s best chefs to create recipes where you can make good use of our Balsamic:

• Sergio Mei, Executive Chef of the Four Seasons in Milan, suggests Culatello di Zibello as an appetizer and angel hair pasta with figs as a first course.
• Claudio Sadler, founder of Sadler, has offered us a spectacular foie gras terrine to start with and a roast partridge as a main course.
• Pietro Leemann, founder of Joia, shared with us his unmistakeable travel notes. Only for brave home chefs!
• Ernst Knam, maitre patissier and founder of L’Antica Arte del Dolce in Milan and Turin, has created a delicious chocolate and figs mousse.
• Heinz Beck, Executive Chef at La Pergola on top of the Hotel Hilton in Rome, has given us the secret for Traditional Balsamic Vinegar ice cream – you won’t be able to live without it.

Of course, recipes at this level are not meant to intimidate – you can taste balsamic vinegar at its best simply drizzled on a few chunks of well-aged Parmesan or spooned over a red meat tagliata. But if you feel like wearing your gourmet chef hat, they’re all yours!

Beta testers wanted

Well, I should say “tasters”, not “testers”. And it’s not really a beta anymore – although traditional Modena balsamic vinegar takes years and years to ripen, I think we can safely say we’re out of beta by now. Our barrels (durmast oak, chestnut, acacia, ash, and cherry wood) have been working their magic and the stuff that comes out the small end of the line is liquid brown gold.

If you’d like to come see us in Modena, this trade show on the first weekend of October is a great time. Everybody who’s anybody in balsamic vinegar will be there, and your taste buds will have the time of their life. Other interesting exhibitors, at least judging from names and locations, will be: Osteria Caserma Guelfa & Nudo e Crudo, Vinaigre del Condado de Huelva, Consejo Regulador Vinagre de Jerez, Vinaigrerie La Guinelle, Pars Yeema Biotechnologist Co., Wuhan Polytechnic University, and the College of Food Science and Technology of Huazhong Agriculture University.

Finally, a few words on the show’s visual identity. The model is good-looking and the product is appealingly shown on a chunk of Parmesan (although fans believe that dunking, not sprinkling, is the recommended tasting solution for traditional balsamic and Parmesan). But it feels like we’ve seen this advertising trick (show model’s mouth, hide model’s eyes) a gazillion times before. Creatives, some more creativity next time, please.

Museum restaurants: The Modern, MoMA, New York

 

I was running a bit behind in my museum restaurant review series, so here you go with some pictures from The Modern, the ground-floor restaurant at the MoMA in New York.

First, make a reservation: the place is crowded and you may have to wait half an hour or more even to grab a quick lunch in the Bar Room. The food, by Alsatian chef Gabriel Kreuther, is truly excellent; liverwurst, foie gras, country sausage, goat cheese and duck are well balanced by tuna tartare, scallops and oysters.

 

 

 

Yet, after the crowd-pleasing Sol LeWitt mural panels at the entrance, the interior of the restaurant is largely uninspiring – a puzzle, given that the rest of the museum is an architectural marvel, with many surprising vistas enlivening even the casual visitor’s walk.

And while I’m a fan of creative flower arrangements (the best I’ve ever seen? those at the Hotel Arts in Barcelona, a few years ago), I couldn’t care much for the bamboo-topped constructions in the dining room at the Modern.

More museum restaurants: Bistrot Bovisa, Milano

Here’s an interesting new museum restaurant, Bistrot Bovisa, in the old industrial ouskirts of Milan. The somewhat minimalist food is designed by chef Moreno Cedroni, and while not all the restaurant design choices make sense (I can’t help foreseeing a short lifespan for those chain mail placemats), the place is pleasant enough for a lunch or dinner break after visiting the exhibition next door.