Airline bumps get more profitable

Have you ever been bumped from a flight? Taken vouchers to involuntarily skip a leg of your journey through life? Told that you were removed from your flight to the Westminster Dog Show, forcing Bacon the Norwich Terrier to miss his best in breed event? Me either. We are the lucky 99.99%.

Some are not so lucky. According to Brett Snyder at CNN, 65,000 individuals were involuntarily bumped from flights in 2010 due to overbooking. That is a lot of angry people for sure, but actually only represents 1 in 10,000 air passengers. Regardless of the size of this small minority of travelers, the Department of Transportation heard their shrieks of anger and decided to significantly increase compensation awarded to “the bumped.” Being unlucky is about to get much more lucrative.With the old rules, an airline that delivered you to your destination within two hours of your original arrival time was obligated to refund the value of your one-way ticket up to $400. The new rule calls for double the value of your one-way ticket, for up to $650. For delays longer than two hours, the airline is now required to refund you four times the value of the original ticket, up to $1300. That amount is up from a maximum of $800 under the old rules.

So why do people get bumped in the first place? The majority of airlines sell more tickets to every flight than they have seats. They want their flights full, and since some people do not show up to fly, the airlines overbook to ride the line of maximum profitability.

Of course, an increase in fares will likely piggyback this increased compensation scheme. Since airlines must now account for these increased overbooking penalties in their profitability algorithm, they may sell less seats per flight. This could increase the price per seat marginally.

Who knows? Maybe you will make out like a bandit from this increase in bumping compensation. I would definitely not mind pocketing $1300 for arriving three or so hours late to my destination. What do you think?

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flickr image via Andrew Morrell photography

Ten great food co-ops in the western U.S.

If the concept of food cooperatives conjures up images of burning bras and withered, wormy produce, hear me out. The times they have a’changed, and today’s co-ops (about 500 nationwide) can be the hometown equivalent of a certain high-end, multi-billion-dollar, national green grocery chain. As with farmers markets, all are not created equal, but when you hit upon a good one, it’s easy to see why they’re such community hubs.

One of the defining principles of many co-ops is their commitment to purchase produce, meat (if they’re not vegetarian stores), and dairy as direct as possible, often from local farmers. By shopping there, you’re promoting food security and supporting the community. Most co-ops are also open to non-members.

Great product aside, I love checking out co-ops because they give me a sense of place. I learn about what foods are indigenous to or cultivated in the region, and usually, who grows them (I have a particular weakness for hand-lettered signs informing me I’m purchasing “Farmer Bob’s Pixie tangerines,” or blackberry honey from an enterprising 10-year-old’s backyard hives).

No matter how well-intentioned, not everything in even the best co-op is regional, as it depends upon what grows in that area, and the time of year. But the best co-ops have a high proportion of local products, and I award bonus for a truly appetizing deli (no tempeh loaf, please), bakery, and an espresso bar. When I’m on the road, dropping under five bucks for a delicious breakfast (steel-cut oatmeal, polenta, or ethereal scones, perhaps) and a well-made latte with locally-roasted beans always makes me happy. With a good co-op, that’s often possible.

Below, some of my favorite food co-ops in the western U.S.:

1. Ashland Food Co-op, Oregon
Located just over the California border in the Rogue River Valley, Ashland is famous for its Shakespeare Festival. It also deserves props for the co-op, with its selection of carefully curated local produce, deli, espresso bar, and delicious baked goods. Hippie haters may cringe at the earnestness of the patrons, but grab a seat on the patio, and enjoy the show. The surrounding Railroad District neighborhood boasts galleries, artist studios, shops, and restaurants.

[Photo credit: Kootenay Co-op, Flickr user donkeycart]

2. Rainbow Grocery, San Francisco
This beloved collective draws customers seeking out some of the most impeccable produce, dairy, and specialty foods in the nation–all grown or made nearby. Look for goat cheese from Harley Farms, seasonal Gravenstein apples from Sebastopol, and honey from the bulk tank.

3. Boise Co-op, Idaho
I stumbled upon this co-op while exploring Boise, and fell in love. Idaho doesn’t usually conjure images of pristine produce aside from potatoes, but this bustling store is packed with beautiful local product, a deli, and an impressive housewares department. Located in a pleasant quasi-residential neighborhood walking distance from the downtown core.

4. Ocean Beach People’s Organic Foods Market, San Diego
It’s all about produce at this large, contemporary collective, especially citrus. But be sure to pick up a sandwich or some picnic items from the deli/bakery; the beach is just a few blocks away. Confession: I got a job here as a recent college grad, and it’s a tribute to my former boss, Trent (then and still the produce manager) that I found a career in food and sustainable agriculture. I was living in my car and going through a severe quarter-life crisis at the time, and by the end of my first day working with him, it was as though a light (energy-saving, of course) had switched on in my serotonin-starved brain. Thanks, Trent!

5. PCC Natural Markets, Fremont (Seattle)
Call it hometown advantage, but I live down the street from this store–part of a greater Seattle co-op chain–and shop here several times a week. It’s my favorite of the stores–some of which could use a makeover. Located in the pretty Fremont neighborhood on Lake Union’s northern shore, it’s modern, inviting, and stuffed with local product. Don’t miss Grace Harbor Farms yogurt, made from butterfat-rich Guernsey milk: the thick layer of cream on top is irresistible.

6. La Montanita Co-op Food Market, Santa Fe
It’s hard to beat Santa Fe’s famous farmers market, but should you miss it or require some additional souvenirs (posole and Chimayo chilies, anyone?), swing by this New Mexico co-op chain. Mark your calendars for September, when select stores roasts massive batches of organic Hatch chilies.

7. Davis Food Co-op, Davis, California
Home to one of the nation’s top ag schools, Davis is located within Yolo County, one of California’s largest farming regions. You’ll find exquisite vegetables from small farming champs like Full Belly Farm and Riverdog Farm of nearby Capay Valley, as well as local olive oil, honey, nuts, orchard fruits, and cheese. Cooking classes for kids and teens, too.

8. Sacramento Natural Foods Co-op, California
Take the same wonderful products found in Davis, and add an ambitious learning center and cooking school program for kids and adults. Learn how to raise backyard chickens, take a two-day farming intensive, or gain some urban cycling skills.

9. People’s Food Co-op, Portland, Oregon
Portland is rightfully one of the nation’s epicenters of mindful eating. With both excellent restaurants and farmers markets, a co-op may not make it onto your travel itinerary, but if you’re in the Clinton neighborhood on the Southeast side, stop by. The reason Portland gets it right? Oregon is a leader in sustainable agriculture and livestock production, artisan cheesemaking, craft brewing, and winemaking. The store also holds a year-round farmers market every Wednesday, 2-7pm.

10. Central Co-op, Seattle
Located in Seattle’s hipster thicket of Capitol Hill, this popular spot is just the place for an espresso before hitting the aisles. A seriously bomber selection of PacNW craft beer and wine, and a tiny but well-stocked cheese case featuring offerings from the likes of Washington’s excellent Black Sheep Creamery = one hell of a happy hour.

For a national directory of food co-ops, click here.

[Photo credits: peppers, Laurel Miller; bread, Flickr user farlane; apples, Flickr user Shaw Girl; espresso, Flickr user Nick J Webb]

Organic flower farms: a trip worth making

Organic flowers aren’t as talked about as organic food. And it’s not difficult to understand why. It’s been tough getting the public at large to focus on organic food–food, something we ingest and rely on as fuel for our body. Focusing the public eye in on the importance of organic flowers, in addition to their food, isn’t an easy task. But organic flower farmers are out there and with a little field trip to one of their farms, you can learn more about organic flower farming than you’d probably guess and savor some breathtaking views while you’re at it.

%Gallery-121462%I had a chance to visit my first organic flower farm in August 2010. I pulled up to Sunny Meadows Flower Farm, a farm within the Columbus, Ohio city limits, not knowing what to expect. I had heard few things about Gretel and Steve Adams, the young couple who own the farm and farm the land. Of those few things I had heard, the general consensus seemed to be one that was in unison: Gretel and Steve are remarkable people doing something remarkable with their lives. And with this kind of build-up, I figured I could only be disappointed. Rarely does anything, particularly anyone, built up so well fill the shoes of their own reputation. I soon found out that this would be one of those rare instances, an exception to the rule.

The dust and gravel kicked up at the friction of my tires as I parked in their driveway. I slipped out of the car to find myself within a dusty fog within a summer’s haze within a lush paradise. I wondered if I was truly, actually, technically still in the city of Columbus. Intellectually, I knew that I was. But this didn’t feel like Columbus.

I grew up just two hours or so southeast of Columbus in Marietta, Ohio. Marietta is a small town, a country town. My taste for rurality isn’t one I’ll deny. I’ve always enjoyed long walks in the woods, the smell of summer, bonfires, barbecues, and wild flowers. But a certain duality within me, a flip-side that craved culture and art and good food and music festivals and people, kept me busy creating reasons to visit Columbus while growing up in Ohio. And so, for all intents and purposes, Columbus was my big city.

Columbus was where I went to feel grown-up and tempered, well-rounded and experienced. Of all the things Columbus was for me, there were some things it definitively was not. Columbus was not a place to visit an organic flower farm. I was a little miffed to return to the Ohio capital on this visit and find that things had changed, that Columbus was something other than I had decided it was long ago. As I shook hands with Gretel and Steve Adams and began my tour of their 10 acre farm, it was clearer than it ever was: there was a lot more to Columbus than I’d previously assumed.

Walking through their farm was surreal. Here I was, in the middle of an actual city, not a city like New York City, but still a fully functional city and The City of my childhood… and yet I was surrounded by blossoming flowers everywhere, their colors splattered like paint across a wide canvas. I brushed the silky petals as I walked past them. I rubbed their leaves between my thumb and index fingers. I wasted no time with concern over pesticide remnants on my fingertips–there were none. Their flowers are organic.

“Nothing is as beautiful and peaceful as a huge field of flowers waiting to be harvested, teeming with life, slightly swaying in the wind”, says Gretel, a woman who clearly loves what she does for a living. “You will see the bees flying around doing their work, monarchs love zinnias, and we encourage praying mantises and ladybugs to come to our farm and be our pest control”. Gretel furthers her infatuation with the organic flower process by explaining to me that non-organic flowers have a sterility to them, a difference that you can feel.

Steve and Gretel revealed to us pieces of their story and their selves as we walked through the dirt passageways, dimmed in some parts by plants so tall and heavy that they canopied over their stems at their tops. Neither Steve nor Gretel had experience farming before starting Sunny Meadows Flower Farm. They refer to themselves as serendipitous farmers and it certainly appears as though serendipity has been working in their favor.

An apprenticeship at Anderson Orchards seeded a passion for farming within Steve, who was lucky enough to have Gretel around, who was lucky enough to have inherited a 10 acre lot in Columbus that her father had purchased in the 80’s. Since both halves of the whole loved nature, they gave farming a shot. And as serendipity would have it, other farmers in the community stepped up as mentors for the pair. Although they also farm organic herbs and vegetables, organic flowers are the focal point of this urban oasis.

Sustainability is a way of life for the Adams. They don’t just own an organic farm–they implement organic practices in every facet of their life possible. They heat their home with wood, they can and preserve all that they can, and Gretel makes some pretty amazing all-natural soap.

I’ve heard that you don’t remember days, you just remember moments. I think this saying is meant to inspire the cultivation of moments worth treasuring and my walk through Sunny Meadows Flower Farm is a moment I still find myself clinging onto, remembering fondly. A lot of things go into the making of the perfect moment, but a field full of chemical-free flowers sure doesn’t hurt. Imagine yourself surrounded by vivid colors in a moment like this. if you like imagining that, I encourage you to research your nearest organic flower farm and pay the people behind these beautiful scenes a visit. You just might treasure your moments in their field for longer than you’d suspect.

And with that, I’ll leave you with some reasons to visit an organic flower farm straight from one of the Sunny Meadows Flower Farm owners, Gretel Adams.

1. Most flowers that are purchased today come from places around the equator where they can be grown year-round and then are shipped all over the world. Worker’s rights and chemical restrictions in these near-equator countries aren’t always consistent with those of the U.S.A. Additionally, shipping across the globe isn’t good for the environment.

2. If you buy your flowers from a local farm producer, you are not buying into that system, and you are supporting your local economy.

3. If you visit a flower farm that uses organic practices, you will quickly be able to see the growing conditions of your flowers and be able to decide for yourself which methods seem safer and make more sense. Organic is about being proactive in creating the best environment rather than being reactive with chemicals like conventional farmers do.

4. And finally, because food may feed the body, but flowers feed the soul! Coming and seeing an organic flower farm allows people to take a break from their crazy busy lives and “smell the roses” for a minute.

D.I.Y. facial, courtesy of your hotel’s breakfast bar

A well-done spa treatment, especially a facial, during a vacation can lift a weary traveler straight out of their jet-lagged funk. But hey, lets not be so easily sold here: spa treatments, particularly those available at destination hotels, are expensive. The good news? You can work yourself up a little D.I.Y. facial with the stuff your hotel offers you for free. Call it resourceful; call it low-class. The fact remains: this stuff works.

Gather what you’ll need from your hotel’s breakfast bar and retire back to your room for some You time, courtesy of You.

What you’ll need:

Your in-room coffee maker
A packet of sugar (pure cane is best)
Yogurt
Uncooked oatmeal
Uncooked egg
Lemon or Orange
WaterOnce you’ve completed your hotel scavenger hunt, you’ll be ready for a self-made facial.

1. Wash your hands well.
2. Squeeze the lemon or orange into a cup of water. Using the corner of a washcloth, rinse your face with this mixture.
3. Spread the sugar over a clean corner of the washcloth. Wetting the washcloth just a bit, gently exfoliate your face with the cloth.
4. Rinse your face clean of the sugar.
5. Fill your coffee maker with water, but add no coffee. Turn on the coffee maker. Once the water is boiling, carefully lift the coffee maker’s water receptor so that you are exposed to the steam from the coffee maker. Place your face 5-10 inches from the steam, depending on what is most comfortable for you. Allow the steam to hit your face for a few minutes.
6. Once your face has been steamed, you can treat it with a mask. Make an easy mask by mixing the uncooked oatmeal with the uncooked egg. Spread the mixture all over your face using a cloth. Remove the mixture once it has hardened.
7. On a clean face, gently apply yogurt, focusing on the under-eye area. Let it sit for 1-2 minutes.
8. Rinse the yogurt.

And now? Enjoy. Because you really don’t have to pay top dollar to rejuvenate your skin at a hotel. In fact, skin rejuvenation can be complimentary.

California’s proposed shark fin ban stirs up debate over global politics of culinary delicacies

As a former longtime resident of Berkeley, California, I’m no stranger to the concept of eating-as-political-act. Well, there’s a new food ethics issue on the block, kids, and while it may smack of the current, all-too-pervasive epidemic of food elitism, it’s really more about ecology, animal welfare, and the politics of eating–especially with regard to travelers, immigrants, and adventurous eaters.

California, never a state to shy away from bold ethnic cuisine, hedonistic gustatory pursuits, or activism (especially when they’re combined) is currently debating the future of shark fin. Namely, should the sale and possession of said shark fin be banned, making the serving of shark fin soup–a dish with strong cultural relevance for the Chinese–illegal?

A recent post on Grist draws attention to this culinary quandary, which addresses the increasingly dicey future of sharks versus the growing demand and profit shark fin offers fishermen, importers/distributors, and restaurateurs. A bill has been introduced into the California legislature to ban shark fin, which would have certain impact upon the state’s various Chinatowns, most notably San Francisco’s because it’s the largest as well as a profitable tourist attraction. There’s concern that the ban might infringe upon the cultural heritage and economic livelihood of the Chinese community–an ethnic group that makes up a large portion of California’s population. Or, as one Chinatown restaurateur in San Francisco commented, “People come to America to enjoy freedom, including what is on the plate.” Well. If only it were that simple.

[Photo credit: Flickr user laurent KB]Shark fin soup holds an important place in Chinese culture. This delicacy is a sign of the host’s generosity at banquets, and is believed to have virility-enhancing and medicinal properties. It has no taste, nor much purported nutritional value; the cartilaginous fins merely add a gelatinous texture. But hey, here’s a hilarious factoid I just found on Wikipedia: eating too much shark fin can cause sterility in males, due to high mercury content.

According to Sharkwater, the site for filmmaker Rob Stewart’s award-winning documentary about shark finning and hunting, shark specialists estimate over that 100 million sharks are killed for their fins, annually. Shark finning refers to the practice of cutting the fins off of (usually) live sharks, which are then tossed overboard to die a slow death or be cannibalized by other sharks.

While shark finning is banned in North America and a number of other countries, it is unregulated and rampant throughout Asia (most notably, the Pacific and Indian Oceans, but international waters are unregulated, which leaves a large gray area for finning to occur). The key issue with shark finning, aside from cruelty and waste of life, is its impact upon the food chain. As the ocean’s greatest predators, sharks are at the top of the chain, and without them to consume the food that normally make up their diet, things get out of whack. Other species proliferate, and endanger other species, and so on, which ultimately wreaks havoc upon marine ecosystems.

California isn’t the first state to take on the ethics of shark finning. Oregon and Washington are considering legislation, and Hawaii’s ban takes effect on June 30th. The bigger picture, as pointed out by Grist writer Gary Alan Fine, is that this isn’t the first time food politics and culinary delicacies have caused a ruckus, and it won’t be the last. He reminds us of the Great Foie Gras Fight of 2006, when Chicago banned the sale and serving of what are essentially fatty, diseased duck and goose livers. Chicago finally overturned the ban due to monumental protests, but California has banned the production (not the sale) of foie gras starting in 2012.

Foie gras is a specialty of southwestern France, but it’s also produced domestically in several states. Foie gras is an important culinary tradition and part of French culture. The animals are fattened by force-feeding (“gavage”) several times a day. In the wild, geese do overfeed prior to migration, as a means of storing fat. The difference is that their livers double in size, rather than increase times ten.

What gavage does involve is inserting a tube or pipe down the goose or duck’s throat. Research indicates the animals don’t suffer pain. That may well be true, but there are many reports of gavage gone wild, in which fowl esophagi and tongues are torn. I haven’t been to a foie gras farm, although I’ve done a lot of research on the topic, and have spoken with journalists and chefs who have visited farms and watched gavage. I’ve yet to hear of anyone witnessing visible suffering or acts of cruelty (including nailing the birds’ feet to the floor, something animal welfare activists would have us believe is standard practice). Does a lack of pain mean it’s okay to produce and eat foie gras? I don’t know; I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t bother me conceptually, but I also think it’s delicious. That’s why I want to visit a farm; so I can make an informed decision for myself.

Foie gras aside, the humane/sustainable aspects of commercial livestock production, foraging, or fishing usually come down to the ethics of the producer, forager, or fisherman, as well as regulations and how well they’re enforced (if at all). Sometimes, as with shark finning, there is no humane aspect (although to most of the fishermen, they’re just trying to earn enough to survive).

But there are also cultural differences that dictate these issues. The Philippines has long been under fire for its mistreatment of dogs destined for the dinner table. I don’t condone animal cruelty in any form (which is why I want to see gavage), yet we must also realize that pets are not a traditional part of that culture. How are we to resolve these issues, which in their way, are similar to human rights issues such as clitoridectomy, or child brides? Is it ethical for us, as Americans/Westerners/industrialized nations to dictate cultural changes that have profound and ancient meaning to others?

But before we get our panties in a bunch about foie gras and how other countries treat their food animals, we need to change the way our industrial livestock production system works (click here for an excellent article by food journalist Michael Pollan addressing this topic in response to the Chicago foie gras ban). Am I a hypocrite for saying I’m invested in animal welfare, when I eat foie gras or the carne asada at my local taco truck? Yes, I am. But I also believe we need to pick our battles, and do our research. You can’t save the world, but you can do your best to offset negative impact whenever possible.

In my case, I won’t purchase any endangered or non-sustainably farmed seafood. But I’m not going to give up eating at my favorite ethnic dives because the meat isn’t sustainably-raised, since I get a lot of pleasure from dining at those places. I’m also a food journalist, and I believe it’s my job to eat what I’m assigned to eat, unless it is an endangered species.

In exchange, I refuse to purchase meat for home consumption or cooking classes that hasn’t been raised in an ethical manner. Am I better than you for doing this? I doubt it, but it’s something I feel very strongly about, and it’s my way of offsetting the rare occasions when I eat foie gras for work or pleasure, or for indulging in a burrito binge or other meaty ethnic feast.

Those who advocate the right to eat whatever they wish have said that the government has no place on their plates, be it for ethical, health, or environmental/ecological reasons. Yet still we rage on about the politics of importing, producing and eating things like Beluga caviar (illegal), milk-fed veal (range-fed is a humane alternative), raw milk cheese, and god knows what else in this country. And we judge and despair over the consumption of cats, dogs, sea turtle meat and eggs, horses, and other “cute” animals in other (usually desperately poor) parts of the world.

I’ve said it before: rarely is anything in life black-and-white. And so it is with food. To me, meat is meat. What matters is how that animal is raised and treated before it is dispatched, and how and who makes these types of decisions. If there is any question of pain or ecological imbalance in the equation, I wholeheartedly agree with banning it, assuming other alternatives–be they substitution, more humane harvesting or production methods, or quotas–have been explored.

As a traveler, I’m frequently disturbed by the inhumane (to my American standards) aspects of food sourcing and preparation in other countries. Yet I still have empathy for other cultures when they’re forced to stray from their traditions, whether for tourism, ecological, or other reasons. It’s a thorny issue as to whether we should live and let live, or protect natural resources and animal welfare in countries not our own. I believe we should make the effort to be responsible travelers, whether we do so on an organized trip, or independently. If we don’t look after the planet, cultural relevance, tradition, and the pleasures of the plate aren’t going to matter, anyway.

[Photo credits: shark fin soup, Flickr user SmALl CloUd; foie gras, Flickr user claude.attard.bezzina;remaining photos, Laurel Miller]