Tuesday, May 8: Melody Porter

When we decided as a Compact to track where our food came from for a month, I was excited - because I thought it would be easy.  I do most of my grocery shopping at the weekly farmer’s market in a bucolic south Richmond park, and a locally-owned grocery store (Ellwood Thompson’s) that specializes in local and organic foods.  Yep, I’m one of those people.  Not to say that I don’t duck into the Kroger on a regular basis, but what motivates my trip there is that Homestead Creamery milk (sold in returnable glass bottles, which only piles on the charm) is cheaper there than at Ellwood’s.  (Universal Principle of Thrift.)

So when I got up this morning and began brewing my coffee (Just Haiti from Baraderes, Haiti – made by some farmers I had the opportunity to meet a couple of years ago), I have to cop to a bit of smugness.  Until it came time to pour my cereal.  Though I have Field Day brand, organic, certified non-GMO raisin bran, I have no idea where the wheat or the grapes come from.  And as I poured the half and half into my coffee mug, I checked the labeling but only know where Simple Truth organic brand is distributed from.  And then, since I had just run out of my Homestead Creamery milk, I used some back-up almond milk – again, having no idea where the almonds came from.

Which led to some research.  My first call was to Kroger, source of the half and half.  I talked to a nice fellow named Andy, and the conversation went like this: 

Me:  “Hi, Andy, I’m Melody.  I’m working on a project with some friends to learn more about where my food comes from.  Can you tell me where the Simple Truth half and half is sourced?”

Andy: “Do you have the barcode from the half and half?”

Me: “No, I’m at work.”

Andy:  “What is your ZIP code?  Okay, that’s one of our Simple Truth dairy products.”  Pause.  Breathing.  “Okay….” Pause. “Okay…dairy products…” [other whispered words I couldn’t really follow].

I was on hold for nearly five minutes before he was able to find that it was produced by a dairy in Kansas.  I asked the name: Jackson Hutchison.  I asked if there was any more information he could share, and he said, “that is all I’m able to release.”  Why so ominous, Andy?  I’ll choose not to read anything into that, I suppose.  [Update: after further research, it’s actually Jackson Dairy in Hutchison, Kansas, which is owned by Kroger.  Here’s an interesting post from a woman who chased this rabbit much further than me.]

Field Day Organics (my cereal brand) website doesn’t have a phone number, but I sent an email request for sourcing info.

I was so excited about the half and half that I forgot to ask Kroger about the almond milk, so I had to call back.  I talked to Katherine (“like Katherine Hepburn,” she said).  She told me that this kind of thing is over her head, so she took my email address, name and shopper card number (from my discount card).  Which led to her figuring out that I gave them a fake address when I signed up (oops)… She told me to expect a call or email, and asked whether I was interested in the country or region, but wasn’t sure what kind of answer they would be able to give.  She closed the call by saying, “Enjoy your health.”

For lunch, I brought Cinco de Mayo leftovers from a charming little Mexican restaurant, Cielito Lindo.  I called the restaurant to ask about their sourcing, and though communication was comical (I think he couldn’t imagine why I was asking such questions), I did learn that their vegetables are locally sourced (though I didn’t get any farm names).  They make their own tortilla chips, but their tortillas are not house-made.  I look forward to asking more in person next time I go so I can learn more. 

For lunch, I also brought some yogurt that I picked upon a friend’s enthusiastic recommendation: Wallaby Organic creamy Australian style.  Usually I try to get yogurt in big containers to save on plastic waste, but I broke that rule since this friend was so ape about this yogurt. On the container, it says “Our premium organic milk comes from pasture-based family farms in Northern California.”  I visited their website, where they have photos of the families who run the eight farms they work with.  Not exactly local, but a feel-good connection.  I called to find out where the blueberries were from, and they’re from the US or Canada, depending on the season and availability. The cane juice is from the US, Mexico, Argentina or Paraguay.

Dinner came, and my plan was to have some strawberries (local), mint (from my neighbors’ yard), goat cheese (local) and baguette (local) – fancy fruit bruschetta.  I stopped at the grocery after spinning class, though, and in my sweaty delirium lost all track of that and picked up some of that questionable grocery store sushi.  After eating it, I remembered my challenge and felt the shame of having to report this, which only increased when I saw that (though the man made it right there), it was supplied by JFE, Inc.  That’s a corporation in Texas whose website feels more like that of a car dealership than a food supplier.  No kidding, they’re slick: “we take sushi back to its show business origins.”  Really?  So I called them to ask about sourcing, and the phone rang for a good minute until I was disconnected.  (I guess they don’t have voice mail in show business.)  I sent an email and will report back. 

I was too scared to snack later, lest it result in more calls and websearching.  I had tap water, straight from… dang it.  I’m not sure where the Richmond aquifer is.

[update: it’s from the James River.]