Reading the New York Times in England

We finally got our internet at the flat, so I've been trying to catch up with my reader. This story in the NYT is a good example of the singlemindedness that occasionally infects the people involved in local food movements.


We're optimists, there's no disputing that, and much of the experience of buying local food involves exciting discoveries: heirloom vegetables, unique produce or breeds that you can't find elsewhere--see ramps in the South--items that haven't been bought, and may not have been cultivated for decades, and new foods that some passionate soul has just dreamed up are all part of the experience of eating locally. We just can't understand why anyone wouldn't want these amazing products, or would accept homogenized industrial products instead of something with a funky flavor and an interesting backstory. And of course there's the old chestnut that if we want to make these foods that we love more available, more affordable and more attractive, we must do everything we can to support the people already producing them.


But professionals are not optimists, and neither are passionate, informed amateurs. The flours discussed in the NYT story may be exciting, delicious and the results of admirable community collaboration, but that doesn't make them commercially viable in a wide range of baked goods. I expect that there are many small-scale heirloom millers who read or were interviewed for this story who've stated that Americans just need to stop expecting these amazing products to make Wonderbread.


That's where optimism and infatuation with a unique, exciting food turns into singlemindedness, and singlemindedness is dangerous. Not for the predictable reasons; I don't care if local farmers resemble street-preachers, or get perhaps frighteningly enthusiastic about their products. I expect it. Their job is to sell what they make, and enthusiasm helps.


By insisting that these flours be used for yeast and starter-risen breads, or even for the usual quickbreads, one ignores some really interesting possibilities. What, these farmers, millers and bakers should ask, were these flours used for the last time that they were grown? Tracking down old cookbooks and recipes is a fulfilling pursuit, and by using the recipes to market the flour (and perhaps to produce value-added products themselves), the flour will be more attractive a purchase than something that tastes nice, but might make your loaf fall.


Another possible use for these flours that I see ignored is in dishes similar to arepas, porridges, and farro. Dishes that use wheat as a starch but not for a baked product are delicious and would surely show off the wheat's unique flavors and stoneground texture better than a grainy slice of what should have been sourdough.


The comparison in the article is made between heirloom flours and small-scale cheeses, and the implication is that the variability of these flours should be enjoyed, not a drawback. But cheese is used differently; a different aged cow's milk cheese on a cheese plate won't do any harm to the plate overall, unless it's rancid. Even when cooking, the chemistry involved in cooking with cheese often allows for a little variability, and the practiced cook can substitute one similar cheese for another with little worry that the sauce will break or that the dish won't taste right.


Baking is far more precise, but farmers, millers and bakers are not without options when it comes to marketing and using these flours in recipes that they're already familiar with. Just as the large flour companies test for gluten content (and other factors), so can artisanal producers test their own flour. If they don't want to adulterate their product--and they won't--by blending it with another wheat's flour, then they don't have to; just label the flour with the results of the test, and note which kinds or brands of flour are most similar to the flour they're selling at the moment. No one will then find themselves making a cake with a high-gluten flour or trying to re-create a chewy baguette with milled soft wheat. Customer satisfaction improves, customers come back for more, and lo and behold, heirloom flour becomes one more viable business model in the local food stable.


And darn it, now I really want to make some bread.