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

by Laurel Miller on

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]

Food & Wine Classic in Aspen celebrates 29th year; get discount tickets until March 15th

by Laurel Miller on

Better put your cardiologist on speed-dial; it’s almost time for the 29th annual Food & Wine Classic in Aspen. The nation’s most-lauded culinary festival will be held June 17-19, featuring food, wine, and cocktail seminars, cooking demos and competitions, grand tastings, and book signings by celebrity chefs like Tom Colicchio, José Andrés, and Michael Symon. Get your tickets before March 15th, and you’ll save $100 off the $1,185 ticket price. Hey, no one said gastronomic blowouts in Colorado’s ski town Shangri-la come cheap.

The price includes attendance at five Grand Tastings, where you can sample the goods from over 300 vineyards, breweries, and distilleries, as well as charcuterie, cheese, olive oil, and chocolate.

Think it sounds a little too high-falutin’? Take note of a few of this year’s witty new seminars: “Sauce on the Side: Wine, Wieners & the Works,” with restaurateur Danny Meyer; “Global Street Food” with chef/one of half of Two Hot Tamales’ Susan Feniger, and “One Pot Meals” with Ming Tsai. Also sure to be popular: “Sophisticated Sipping Rums,” “Top Chef: Salty and Sweet,” with Gail Simmons and Tom Colicchio, and “Cheeses and Wine from Spain.”

FOOD & WINE donates two percent of the net proceeds from all Classic tickets sold to Grow for Good, benefiting Wholesome Wave Foundation. Grow for Good is FOOD & WINE’s national initiative dedicated to supporting local farms and encouraging sustainable agriculture. To purchase, call 877-900-WINE or click here.

Five tips to reduce your health risk while eating street food

by Laurel Miller on

It was the 18th century food writer and gastronome Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin who famously said, “Tell me what you eat, and I’ll tell you what you are.” For certain cultures, street food is more than just a cheap, tasty, easy way to fuel the body. It’s part of a daily ritual, a way to catch up on neighborhood or community gossip, a means of eking out a living to provide for one’s family. By eating foreign street food, you get a sense of the social fabric and gender roles of a community or culture, but what about the health risks?

Some travelers equate a love of street food with a latent wish to sightsee whilst wearing an adult diaper. They steer clear of anything sold from a vendor, or resembling fruit, vegetable, or beverage not from a bottle (although when it comes to drinking water, you should always err on the side of caution, and there is something to be said about peeling or washing produce to avoid pesticide residue, since many developing nations use chemicals banned in the U.S.). What these folks may not realize is that foodborne illnesses such as E.coli, salmonella, and listeria don’t discriminate. FDA statistics show you’re more likely to get sick from preparing food at home than from dining in a domestic restaurant.

Is street food inherently more risky than eating in a restaurant when you travel? Sometimes, and it depends. Children, the elderly, and those with compromised immune systems are certainly more at risk of getting ill, and may be best off avoiding street eats. But there are certain precautionary measures healthy travelers can take before scarfing their tacos or mystery-meat kebabs that will minimize the chances of bringing home more than just a suitcase full of sweatshop-made tchotchkes as souvenirs. Read on.

1. Is there a crowd? Just like at home, go where the locals go, as they obviously know where to find the good stuff. But high volume also means that food is being prepared fresh, rather than sitting around attracting flies and turning into something useful for waging biological warfare.

2. Are basic hygiene practices being implemented by the vendor(s)? In Mexico, I’ve frequently observed street vendors slipping clean plastic bags over plates. With every order, a new bag is used, then discarded at the end of the meal. It’s an eco-nightmare, but it’s a lot more sanitary than dunking a plate in a bucket of dingy water doubling as a petri dish. Also bear in mind that in many parts of the world, the left hand performs double-duty as toilet paper. I can’t say it enough: Look at the sanitation practices before ordering.

You’ll often find co-workers whose sole responsibility is to handle money, to avoid cross-contaminating food (this isn’t always the case, however, so sometimes you’ll just have to–literally–suck it up). Once, when I accidentally handed my money to the wrong guy, he turned his hand upside-down to avoid contact with my filthy coins.

3. Is the stand or cart clean and well-maintained? Is hot food kept hot or cooked to order, and is cold food cold? Is purified water or ice used for beverages and frozen treats?

4. Are the ingredients fresh? If you’ve got eyes, a nose, and some tastebuds, you can figure this out for yourself. I look at the condiments and garnishes to determine if I want to eat at a given stand or cart. If I see crusty bowls of salsa, dessicated limes, slimy herbs, or flies congregated on any raw foods I might potentially eat, I’m out of there.

Stick to local specialties. One of the greatest joys of travel is eating regional ingredients or dishes. It also stands to reason that ordering seafood in an inland desert is a calculated risk. Raw protein products (egg, meat, poultry, fish, fresh cheeses) in general are to be avoided in the Third World. What about dishes like ceviche, where the acid in the citrus juice denatures (breaks down proteins, killing some potential pathogens in the process) the fish? It’s still risky, because technically it’s an uncooked food, and only application of heat over 145 degrees can totally annihilate anything potentially deadly lurking in fish. Again, use good judgment based on freshness of ingredients and basic sanitation, but remember that you can’t eliminate all risk.

If you’re in a coastal region, it pays to do a bit of homework on the cleanliness of the local fresh and ocean water supplies; algae blooms or cholera outbreaks will be widely reported. Try to avoid eating raw river fish or seafood, or river fish/seafood from just offshore; remember that many developing island nations and coastal regions use high tide as their toilet. If you’re eating pork in the Third World, always make sure it’s well-cooked. While trichinosis has effectively been eradicated from our domestic industrial pork supply, the disease is prevalent in other parts of the world. And not to get too graphic, but you’ll often find pigs in rural parts of the developing world lurking around latrines, searching for a snack.

Fresh ingredients don’t necessarily mean great food, but it helps. Delicious street food is ulimately a reflection of the loving care that goes into its preparation. Are the carnitas slightly crispy on the outside, with an interior succulent with greasy goodness? Is the masa in the tamales moist, with a sweet, earthy corn flavor? Are the noodles slightly toothsome, the herbs fresh and bright-tasting, the broth fragrant and piping hot? These things matter.

5. Use hand sanitizer before eating, take probiotics with live active cultures prophylactically, and pack a broad-spectrum gastrointestinal antibiotic and Imodium, just in case. I’m just sayin’.

For more information on food safety, go to this page on the USDA website.

California’s Santa Cruz Island: sea kayaking and…sushi?

by Laurel Miller on

My dinner lay spread out beneath me in every direction, plainly visible in the crystalline waters. The rocky inlets and kelp forests of Central California’s eight Channel Islands are home to what is considered to be some of the finest uni, or sea urchin, in the world. To better see them in their natural habitat, I was sea kayaking off Santa Cruz Island, 25 miles offshore of the Santa Barbara Channel.

I’d decided on a day trip with Ventura-based outfitter, Island Packers. Confession: I grew up 30 miles south of the quiet coastal community (which is an hour’s drive from LA), but I’d never before visited the islands. It’s just one of those things on my to-do list that kept getting pushed aside, until a friend invited me to join him on a paddle.

Part of the Channel Islands National Park, Santa Cruz is the state’s largest island and a popular hiking, paddling, and camping destination. Seventy-six-percent of Santa Cruz is owned and managed by the Nature Conservancy, with the remaining 24-percent managed by the National Park Service. Along with nearby Anacapa, Santa Rosa, Santa Barbara, and San Miguel islands, it’s a starkly beautiful place of desolate hills, wind-stunted Native Island Oaks, white sand beaches, tidepools and fossil beds, and rocky cliffs. Santa Cruz is also a popular whale watching destination, famed for its massive sea caves, which can be explored by kayak.

[Photo credit: Flickr user mikebaird]


The Channel Islands were first inhabited by the Chumash Indians, whose archaeological remains date back over 10,000 years. In the last two hundred years, the islands have variously been used by fur traders, fishermen, and the military (poor San Miguel was a bomb testing site that still has the odd live mine unearthed by the relentless wind). In the late 19th century, cattle, horse, and sheep ranching became island industries.

Today, the islands are essentially deserted except for some research facilities, and a handful of primitive campgrounds. There are no stores so campers must pack in all essentials, including drinking water. Campground reservations and a nominal fee are required on all five islands; Santa Rosa permits seasonal beach camping for experienced paddlers and boaters. Even if you’re just day hiking, be sure to bring layers, as the weather is unpredictable.

The Channel Islands are known as North America’s Galapagos. They’re home to over 2,000 species of bird, plant, animal, and marine life, 145 of which are found nowhere else on earth (including the island fox, and an endemic scrub jay). The waters host a variety of sea urchin species, including Strongylocentrotus franciscanus, the red sea urchin. Another confession: I’m not so much a fan of uni, which I find overpowering, as I am of sustainable marine resource management. I’m also fascinated by seeing any ingredient in its raw state. Combined with my love of sea kayaking, a Channel Islands uni expedition was irresistible.

Highly prized for their flavorful roe (which are actually the egg-producing gonads), red urchins are harvested commercially by divers for the domestic and international market. Purple urchins also proliferate in the Channel Islands, but their smaller size makes them undesirable for commercial use. Appearance-wise, uni resemble jaundiced cat tongues (really), and they have an intense, briny flavor revered by seafood aficionados for its pure, unadulterated ocean essence.

Uni is the Japanese word for sea urchin roe; sushi is the culinary form most familiar to Americans. Another classic way to enjoy uni is smeared on toasted bread, which is how I’ve eaten it on the Chilean island of Chiloe – another spot famed for sea urchin. In Southern Italy, uni, or ricci di mare, is sold as a street food, to be scooped onto bread, or tossed in pasta or risotto, while the French use them in custards or delicate sauces, as well as raw for street food. Uni used to be primarily an export product, sold at Tokyo’s Tsukiji Fish Market, but since the 1990’s, the domestic market has been the most profitable. In Santa Barbara, you’ll find local uni, when available, at Arigato, and The Hungry Cat (convieniently, my two favorite local restaurants).

Uni is generally considered a sustainable industry because there are size regulations, permit restrictions, and limits on how many days a week harvest is permitted, depending upon the season. Red urchins range from tideline to depths up to 90 feet, subsisting entirely on bottom-growing kelp; the quality of their roe is entirely dependent upon the quantity and health of the aquatic plants, and it’s in the best interest of divers harvesting uni to be selective. Channel Islands uni are prized because of the high quality of the kelp, which is rich in nutrients due to the convergence of the region’s warm and cold waters. Grade A uni possess fatty, or creamy, bright yellow roe, while Grade B uni are more of a brown or orange color. The lowest grade roe have a grainy texture and brown roe.

Central California‘s coast is the nation’s leading source of uni, and it’s become one of the state’s most important fisheries. Though regulated (and currently only open to commercial harvest), not all sea urchin fisheries are sustainable. Human factors, in addition to climate and water temperatures (which affect the kelp cycle) are reasons you might not always find uni at your local sushi bar. Sea otter migration is another factor, and a source of much industry controversy.

While the Santa Barbara/Channel Islands fishery doesn’t have otters, the animals have, in the last decade, moved farther south-the result of coastal development and pollution, and increasing human populations. They’re a protected species, and a key part of the food chain. By nature, they’re grazers (they also don’t feed at depths below 60 feet), snacking upon sea urchins and crustaceans as they swim. Bits of food fall to the ocean floor as they eat, which in turn provides sustenance for lower-food chain bottom feeders. In some fisheries, otters, combined with overfishing, have caused sea urchin and shellfish populations to dwindle.The Channel Island fishery has instituted strict harvest regulations to sustain a healthy sea urchin population, but if otters move into the area, that could change.

The big picture, however, is that consumers, wholesalers, and restaurateurs need to continue to seek out seafood that is sourced in an ecologically responsible manner, from well-managed fisheries. How you eat your uni is up to you, but if you’d like to see them in their pristine natural state first, take a paddle around one of the Channel Islands.

For boat departures, click here.

The Santa Barbara Fish Market, located at the Harbor, sells live and processed uni. It’s adjacent to the Saturday morning Fish Market at the Harbor, held 7am to 11am. Local guys sell their catch straight off their boats; even if you just go to look, it’s a great little slice of local industry that not many tourists get a chance to see.

Spaghetti with Clams and Uni

The following recipe is from an uni article written by Los Angeles Times editor Russ Parsons. For information on how to purchase seafood from well-managed fisheries, click here to view Monterey Bay Aquarium’s “Seafood Watch” list.

Serves 6

salt
2 T. olive oil
1 clove garlic, minced
dash crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
1 lb. spaghetti
1 c. white wine
2 lbs. small clams in shell (Manila type)
2 (2-ounce) trays sea urchins
Italian parsley, leaves only, left whole

Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Meanwhile, heat the olive oil and garlic in a large skillet over medium heat. Taste a bit of sea urchin. If it seems bitter, add a pinch of red pepper flakes to the skillet. Cook until the garlic is soft but not yet golden, 2 to 3 minutes. When the garlic has softened, add the white wine to the skillet and raise the heat to high. Cook until the wine has reduced by about half, 4 to 5 minutes.
Add the clams and 1 ½ trays of sea urchins, reserving the best ones for garnish. Cover and cook, stirring frequently, until the clams are all open, about 5 minutes.

While the sauce is cooking, add the spaghetti to the boiling water. Cook until it is just short of al dente, soft but with a thin thread of crunch in the center, about 7 minutes.
When the clams have opened, remove the skillet from the heat and stir to break up as much of the sea urchins as possible. They should blend into the sauce.

When the spaghetti is done, drain it, reserving one-half cup of the cooking water. Add the spaghetti and the reserved cooking water to the sauce and place it over high heat. Cook, stirring constantly, until the sauce has slightly reduced, about 2 minutes. Taste and add salt if necessary. Divide among 6 heated pasta bowls and garnish with the reserved sea urchin and several leaves of parsley. Serve immediately.

[Photo credits: sea kayak, Flickr user mikebaird; uni, Flickr user rick; Scorpion Bay, Flickr user Brian Dunlay; seagull, Flickr user KyleChx; sea urchin, Flickr user mecredis]

Planes, trains, or automobiles: local delicacies make memorable mobile meals

by Laurel Miller on

As a food and travel writer, I log a lot of air and land miles, but I can count on one hand how many airline meals I’ve eaten. Even as a kid-admittedly the most irritatingly picky eater on the planet-I refused to choke down in-flight chicken the texture of sawdust, or boiled-to-death pasta and vegetables. My parents, at their wit’s end, finally gave up. Ordering pizza the night before a plane trip became a ritual, because I’d eat the leftovers once airborne (after scraping off the sauce, but I digress).

In some ways, things have changed. I will now eat anything, often to the detriment of my health, for the purposes of work, or a good story. Dog, insects, horse; I don’t get all the fuss over the Donner Party. I will not, however, eat airline, train, heat-and-serve gas station, or ferry fare, unless I’m being paid to do so. I’m not trying to be a food snob. I just find institutional food repugnant, because it usually takes like ass. Don’t even get me started on the nutritional aspects. And in my defense, I have a serious weakness for Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. No, I skip mass transit meals because one of the greatest joys of travel is trying new foods.

I prefer to use my captive travel time to savor local produce and products purchased from farmer’s markets, food halls, street food vendors, or take-away joints. It’s generally the best, as well as cheapest, way to eat on the go, and it’s a great way to experience the food culture of a country or region, even if you’ve never left the United States.
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When I’m in Honolulu, I pick up the fat, juicy, char siu pork-stuffed manapua (steamed dumplings) from Libby Manapua (conveniently located en route to the airport). I’m not alone; the little shop’s pink cardboard cake boxes are a frequent site on inter-island and Mainland-bound flights.

In Naples, I’ve brought calzone and the makings for an impromptu insalata Caprese on the train, and done the same with majouba from Marseilles. On flights I’ve scarfed down Argentinean empanadas, Singaporean sticky rice stuffed with pork, and this soy custardy thing studded with slippery bits of florescent tapioca from Bangkok. I also load up on interesting snack foods: Peruvian cancha, fried fava beans in Ecuador, Mexican tamales, Vietnamese roasted chestnuts, and mochi from Asian groceries in Australia. And under no circumstances should you depart Miami without cuban pork sandwiches from Palacios de los Jugos, in Little Havana.

My favorite mobile meal, however, was a picnic I assembled for a 15-hour train ride from Provence to Madrid. I was staying in the village of Cassis, which is famed for its bustling farmers market. En route to the train station, I hit the market, picking up a couple of different crottins (small rounds of goat cheese), bread, pâté, sausage, and a handful of plump, crimson cherries. A bottle of Bandol rosè from the nearby village of the same name also helped to pass the time.

If you live somewhere known for its local ingredients or dishes, it’s just as easy to assemble a memorable meal to take en route to your destination. One of the most thoughtful gifts I’ve ever received was when a chef friend dropped off a pre-flight bag lunch for me to take on a flight. In it were some of his favorite things from the Berkeley farmer’s market: a loaf of crusty, country-style levain, a round of chevre, and a fat, juicy peach. I arrived at my destination sated and happy. That’s the experience that made me stop making do with meals of soggy, lukewarm sandwiches from home, or Power Bars (although I always have plenty stashed in my day pack for emergency snacks).

A few tips on portable meals:

If you don’t travel light or are on a road trip, keep a small Tupperware container to hold fruit, to prevent it from bruising, or a single-serving-size insulated or neoprene bag to keep perishables cool.

If you backpack, as I do, you can still get away with carrying a few essentials: pocketknife (unless you’re carry-on only), and a wine opener. Carabiners are good to clip on your daypack, as they aid in holding purchases.

If you’ve purchased meat (even if it’s cured), dairy products, honey, or produce, be prepared to consume it en route- you won’t be able to take if off the plane or over borders. At least, not legally. This can also apply on domestic flights, usually in regard to produce.

Do be considerate of your seatmates. If you’re traveling Stateside, or in places where fragrant/heavily spiced cuisine isn’t the norm, skip it. Because hell on earth is being stuck on a plane next to someone eating a warm tuna sandwich. Also, it’s good form, as well as a cultural imperative in some countries, to offer your neighbors a little snack.

Most cultures have foods, such as a variation on dumplings, that are ideal for transit. In Asia and India, food hawkers often sell food on the train or in stations. These may be some of the best, most authentic eats you’ll find, but be forewarned that few things ruin a long train or bus ride like foodborne illness. Only buy fresh, hot food from busy vendors, bring bottled water, and carry a box of Imodium (seriously). Happy travels!

Chile-Citrus Olives

The whole point of travel picnics is to make do when you can’t cook, but I make these olives to take on road trips. They also make nice cocktail snacks or a casual accompaniment to a cheese plate. They’re typical of the type of prepared food you’ll find in many Mediterranean and Middle Eastern markets.
serves 4

10 oz. dry cured or green olives, or combination of the two, such as Moroccan or Picholine
3 or 4 strips of orange peel (not zest- use a vegetable peeler to cut wide strips, avoiding any pith)
2 cloves garlic, gently crushed
2 pinches red chile flakes
1 to 2 T. extra virgin olive oil

Combine all ingredients in a small saucepan over medium low heat, adding more olive oil if too dry. Warm until heated through, then remove from heat, transfer to small bowl, and allow to sit one hour, so flavors develop.