Craig Ruggless of Winnetka Farms tipped me off to one of the four signs of the coming artisinal apocalypse: the opening of a store in Brooklyn entirely devoted to 4 oz jars of mayonnaise at $8 a pop. I thought at first this might be some kind of post-modern, post-structuralist, Duchampian ruse but, in fact, it turns out to be the work of chef Sam Mason and Elizabeth Valleau. Gothamist has the full coverage. As it turns out, the idea isn’t as ridiculous as it sounds at first–the site is more of a manufacturing facility than a retail store.

Still those artisinal apocalypse signs keep coming in. In our own neighborhood, sort of the Los Angeles equivalent of Brooklyn, we await the opening of a high-end grilled cheese sandwich shop.

Of course, here at Root Simple, we’re not the ones to point the finger as we’re somewhat of a living, walking Portlandia sketch!

Wendell Berry, photo by Guy Mendes

A suggestion for your weekend: Make time to settle into your favorite chair with a cup of tea, or a nice glass of wine and listen to “It All Turns on Affection” a lecture by the great Wendell Berry. This is the 2012 Jefferson Lecture in the Humanities, delivered at the Kennedy Center just this week.

Now, I’ll admit that this lecture is more than an hour long–which is why I suggested the refreshment and a comfortable chair. An hour is a lot to ask of our attention days, especially an hour spent watching an elderly gentleman speak slowly at a podium in front of a truly uninspired backdrop. Where are the kittens and baby sloths? you might ask along the way, if your internet video viewing habits are like mine. Best not to think of it as a video. Think of it as a radio program, settle down to listen and you will be truly and deeply rewarded.

I had trouble embedding the video, but you can view it on its NEH page. Berry comes on stage at about the 11:00 mark.

Or, if you prefer, you can read it here. I’m reading it now after my listen, and am just beginning to absorb the finer points.

This lecture is a call for us to rediscover our affection for the land. A plea for us to be stickers instead of boomers. That is, people who tend the land and honor its history and its stories instead of boomers who despoil our limited resources and move on, without thought, as if there will always be more to wealth to wring from nature, no matter what we do.

Of course, Berry is an advocate of the small farmer (as we all should be) and his remarks have much to do with farmland, and his family’s history as farmers, but I don’t think us urban and suburbanites should think his plea has nothing to do with us.  I think we can develop strong affection for our little yards. We can nurture the soil and teeming life there, making our commitment to all the plants and creatures in our care. We can also develop strong affection for and commitment to our communities and neighborhoods. If we do not have land of our own, we can care for that which we are temporarily living on, and we can fight for and nurture public land.

Wherever we are, we are on the land. And whoever we are, we are of the land.

A few quotes from the lecture:

–Economy in its original—and, I think, its proper—sense refers to household management. By extension, it refers to the husbanding of all the goods by which we live. An authentic economy, if we had one, would define and make, on the terms of thrift and affection, our connections to nature and to one another.  

–That we live now in an economy that is not sustainable is not the fault only of a few mongers of power and heavy equipment. We all are implicated. We all, in the course of our daily economic life, consent to it, whether or not we approve of it. This is because of the increasing abstraction and unconsciousness of our connection to our economic sources in the land, the land-communities, and the land-use economies. 

–As many hunters, farmers, ecologists, and poets have understood, Nature (and here we capitalize her name) is the impartial mother of all creatures, unpredictable, never entirely revealed, not my mother or your mother, but nonetheless our mother. If we are observant and respectful of her, she gives good instruction. As Albert Howard, Wes Jackson, and others have carefully understood, she can give us the right patterns and standards for agriculture. If we ignore or offend her, she enforces her will with punishment. She is always trying to tell us that we are not so superior or independent or alone or autonomous as we may think.

Last week upscale retalier Williams-Sonoma announced an urban homesteady line of goods they call “Agrarian”. A number of Root Simple readers responded to the news after I linked to a Wall Street Journal article about the Agrarian line. One reader likened the “Agrarian” items to Marie Antoinette’s 18th century cosplay mini-farm. Another hoped that mainstream acceptance of things like chicken coops and beehives might lead to fewer uptight home owners association restrictions. Yet another speculated that Ikea would come out with similar, but more modernist, options. But rather than delve into the cultural meaning of the Agrarian line (you are all welcome to do that in the comments), I thought I’d look at a few of their actual offerings in beekeeping, chicken coops, canning supplies and books.

Beekeeping
Let’s start with the beekeeping supplies. The hives boxes they offer are very attractive but simply too expensive. If you want English style hive boxes like the ones Williams-Sonoma offers you can get them a lot cheaper at Brushy Mountain. The detailing on the Williams-Sonoma hives are better, but not enough to justify the price difference, in my opinion. Personally, I’d suggest saving even more money and going with the “migratory” boxes used by commercial beekeepers. Our local supplier, LA Honey sells them for a fraction of the cost of English style boxes. Three ten frame unassembled medium supers, a lid and bottom board run just a little over $100 at LA Honey compared with $500 for Williams-Sonoma’s three hive boxes. Hive boxes get smoked, weathered and banged up, so it’s not something I’d spend a lot of money on. Ditch the foundation and you’ll save even more money.

But it’s the veil in the beehive starter kit Williams-Sonoma is selling that bothers me the most. Like most of the other offerings in the Agrarian collection that veil is more about the image of the activity, in this case beekeeping, than it is about actual activity, i.e. beekeeping. This is, of course, the essence of modern marketing as pioneered nearly a century ago by Sigmund Freud’s nephew Edward Bernays (watch the Century of the Self to go down that left hand path). Use that stylish Williams-Sonoma veil and I’ll guarantee you that you’ll have a few angry bees crawling up the inside of the veil. Inexperienced beekeepers, such as myself, are better off with more protection. It ain’t stylish, but this one piece suit from Dadant has saved my rear on more than one occasion.

Dadant Bee suit. Prada it ain’t.

As far as Williams-Sonoma’s beekeeping books go, I’m not a fan of the ones they are selling. I’d get a copy of The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Beekeeping and The Practical Beekeeper Volume I, II  and III: Beekeeping Naturally, both of which tell you how to keep bees without using chemicals and with minimal intervention.

An Upscale Chicken Coop
Williams-Sonoma’s “Alexandria” coop is mighty fine looking, but, like the beekeeping equipment, expensive. Just the coop will set you back $879. Add the $399 run and you’ve got some expensive eggs. Peaceful Valley Farm Supply has a decent looking $400 coop if you don’t feel like building one yourself. Update: Make sure to read Terry’s comment on this post for her thoughts on the sizing and weather performance of this coop. I completely agree with her.

Euro-style Canning Supplies
The canning supplies in the Agrarian collection are really nice. While the USDA only recommends using two piece Ball/Kerr lids, the attractive Weck jars Willliams-Sonoma carries have a number of advantages. There’s no BPA and the only piece you have to throw out and replace is the rubber gasket.

Books
Of course if they were carrying our books I’d be writing a glowing review (just kidding, though looking at my taxes, maybe I’m not kidding!). There’s a few excellent books here, especially The Preservation Kitchen: The Craft of Making and Cooking with Pickles, Preserves, and Aigre-doux. Many of the other books suffer from the “Century of the Self” problem mentioned above–they’re all about image, which equals too many pictures and not enough actual how-to advice.

Conclusion
That a major upscale retailer is selling chicken coops and canning supplies goes to show how much things have changed in the past ten years. I take this as a good sign. Perhaps some of those Weck jars will trickle down to my local hardware store. Maybe Rem Koolhass will design a chicken coop for Ikea (though I pity the poor chickens who will have to live in it). And, someday those uptight HOAs will be so thick in goats they’ll resemble a small Afghan villages. Thank you great recession!

Writing in the 1st century AD, Seneca makes a good case for common sense limits:

Is it not living unnaturally to hanker after roses during the winter, and to force lilies in midwinter by taking the requisite steps to change their environment and keeping up the temperature with hot water heating? Is it not living unnaturally to plant orchards on top of towers, or to have a forest of trees waving in the wind on the roofs and ridges of one’s mansions, their roots springing at a height which it could have been presumptuous for their crests to reach?

-Letter CXXII from Letters from a Stoic (Penguin Classics)

Apparently the Romans had a thing for ridiculous, energy intensive vertical gardening schemes. Perhaps it’s what happens as empires trend towards the decadent and live beyond their means. It’s hard not to see modern parallels. Witness what happened when an upscale hair salon planted a vertical garden on a south facing wall in Los Angeles.

I’ve come to much the same conclusions about the garden surrounding our own household. Growing blueberries in Southern California? I’ve done it, but who wants the extra effort to secure acidic soil and tend a potted plant? Maybe it’s better to grow pomegranates here instead. They thrive in terrible soil with not much water.

I could thoughtstyle on about this but, as usual, Archdruid John Michael Greer beat me to it with a thought provoking interview on the C-Realm podcast about the creativity of living within limits. Have a listen and, on a similar theme, check out my new, most favorite, blog, Low-Tech Magazine.

Vale!

Photo by Carlos Morales from LA Streetsblog

In a story that made international headlines last month the film industry voiced its disfavor with a bright green bike lane the City of Los Angeles painted downtown. Hollywood’s complaint? An editorial in the LA Times claims that “the green lane spoiled the shots that made Spring [Street] the perfect stand-in for Anytown, USA.” To add insult to injury, film production vehicles regularly block bike lanes all over the city, without film companies getting the proper permits to do so.

It got me wondering what, exactly, do we need film companies for? Do we need the advertising they produce? Do we need violent movies and TV shows? Do we need their opposition, through legislation like SOPA and ACTA, to internet technology? I appreciate that many of my friends and neighbors work hard in this industry and derive their livelihood from it. But maybe, as media theorist Daniel Rushkoff would say, it’s time for a break during which time we could rethink our relationship with mass media and its impact on our lives.

To that end I thought I would try an experiment and give up the products of the film industry for 100 days and use the spare time to study the classics and work in the garden. Maybe I’ll finally get around to making some of my own how-to videos and podcasts and distribute them on that big bad internet  the film industry is so afraid of.

Is anyone else up for joining me in forgoing Hollywood’s products for 100 days? Are you already on a media diet? Are you producing a new blog or podcast? Tell me your story in the comments:

Gee, I don’t know…do you think it’s invasive? (and are those her shin bones that I see???!)

Erik and I fly very rarely, preferring Amtrak to the Theater of the Absurd otherwise known as TSA security. This week, though, I had to fly, and for the first time I couldn’t opt for the metal detector, so I requested the grope both on the way out and on the way home. I am here to say it wasn’t bad at all. In fact, I kind of liked it, and I’m opting for the grope from here on out.

Why do I object to the scanners? It’s just wrong. The whole thing. For so many reasons. I figure you’ve got your opinion on them already, so I’m not going to belabor my reasons. I’m not here to change your mind, just to offer an alternative.

Why do I like the grope? Ah. Now that’s more interesting. I’ve been thinking about my groping a lot, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it was perfectly logical for me to opt for the groping, considering my other lifestyle choices. It’s organic, if you will. Sustainable and locally sourced security!  But seriously, when you choose to lead a more considered life, one closer to the ground, you often trade speed and convenience for what I can only call authenticity of experience. Sometimes that authenticity is messy or frustrating or slow, but it’s solid and tactile and often unforgettable. When you’re in it, you know you’re alive. It’s the difference between struggling to light a fire in the wind and watching one of those survivor shows. It’s the difference from picking up take-out chicken for dinner and holding a hen in your arms as she dies.

Human touch is always charged. Always important. During my first pat down, I stood there, arms outstretched, thinking about how the TSA officer’s energy and mine were combined at that moment. I wondered what secret communications were passing between our bodies–communications which would never rise to the level of the conscious. TSA Lady and I were in relationship. Human to human. And it’s hard to articulate this, but that seemed important. It brought meaning my day, meaning and interest which I’d not have experienced otherwise.

I walked away from the grope smiling, skin still tingling a little from contact. I’d escaped the dehumanizing scanner technology and found a more meaningful, low-tech way to pass through airport security and I’d had an experience I could chew on for a while. I was satisfied. In the halls of Security Theater, you take what you can get.

The second search on the way home was almost identical to the first, equally positive. An odd moment of interest or intensity in an otherwise routine airport experience.

Though more than a week has passed since my last trip through security, I still remember both of the TSA officers who conducted my pat downs: their faces, their bored but professional voices and the gentle touch of their blue-gloved hands.

Of course, if the body search is done against your will or disrespectfully, it’s going to be a really bad experience. And there’s no denying that people have had plenty of bad experiences with the TSA since the Theater came to town. Perhaps next time I fly, I’ll draw a mean spirited TSA officer and change my tune. But until then, I’m going to go to the airport a half hour earlier than I would otherwise, with my heart full of serenity, and I’m going to say, all bright and cheerful, “I’d like to opt for alternate screening, please.”

After the break, a description of the pat-down, for those of you who might want to give it a try:

I think it benefits the TSA when we are terrified of the pat down. “Alternate Screenings” take time and personnel. They want you to just give up and walk through the scanner. Media reports help them by sensationalizing bad security encounters. Don’t let any of that put you off. If you’re cooperative and they’re following their own guidelines, it’s going to go smooth.

In terms of procedure, this is how you get yourself groped:

You take off your belt and shoes and coat send all your stuff through the x-ray as usual, but at the point  you stop and say to whichever officer is closest that you’d prefer “alternate screening.”

At this point they’ll call for an “assist” from an employee who matches your gender. You stand to the side until this person can be produced. Both times I waited only a minute.

The screener arrives and asks you to point out your belongings on the conveyer belt, and they pick them up. You don’t handle any of your stuff until the screening is over–they’re touchy about this–but they take it to the screening area with you so you can keep an eye on it while you’re being patted down.

So you pad over to the side of the screening area in your stocking feet, following the agent who has all your precious goods. I believe you can opt for a private room if you like–I was offered that option the second time–but there’s no way I’d ever opt for that. Transparency is a good thing.

Next there’s some highly-scripted patter at that point in which they ask if you have any painful areas or medical devices, and tell you how and where they’re going to touch your “sensitive areas.” Being a perpetual adolescent, terminology like “sensitive areas” makes me snigger, and I had to bite my cheek in order to remain suitably sober and cooperative looking.

The search itself is far from a “drop ‘em and spread ‘em” kind of experience. I’ve been more aggressively searched on my way into concerts.

The screeners ran their hands up and down my legs and torso and made elegant sweeping gestures around my breasts, knuckles down–I guess to ascertain that I didn’t have a Glock tucked in my bra. They certainly wouldn’t have found anything smaller than a Glock. My “sensitive areas” were not unduly handled. They did run a finger around my waist band, but there was no exploration of my crotch. I’m not sure if gentlemen get more of a crotch grope or not.

After the search, they scan their gloves for traces of explosive dust or PCP or Leprechaun blood or whatever, then you’re free to go.

The whole search takes about five minutes. You do have to allow time to get a screener assigned to you at the start. As I said, that only took a minute for me, but during holidays you’d want to count on more of a wait.

Both times I was searched, only one other person was also opting for the grope. (Commrades!) It’s not a popular decision, to say the least.  But I think it’s a good one.

ETA: It’s occurred to me to mention dress. You can choose your wardrobe to make this go more smoothly. Ladies–if you have a choice, I wouldn’t opt for a skirt.  Or as one of the commenters said, her overall-clad boyfriend got a serious crotch grab. Baggy is suspicious to them. Form fitting clothes are best. I wore narrow jeans and a tank top, figuring the less excuse they had to go delving, the better.