Let's Talk About Eggs, Baby (Humanity and Eating, part 3), kids and naps

Ok, a terrible rip-off of a silly song, but alas. Throw me a bone because my musical tastes were formed largely in the late 80s/early 90s so really, what do you want from me, and my throat huuuurrrts. Can you tell I am a most pathetic sick person? Why do kids resist naps? And how -I'm really curious about the process here- can they jump and call for you ceaselessly and then INSTANTANEOUSLY fall asleep, never to be heard from again until they wake? I do not fall asleep in this manner, and it boggles my mind. Oliver was a bed-ridden spring for a full 15 or 20 minutes, calling "Mommy, why are you not in here? I need you! I am not sleepy!" and then suddenly, silence. Hmm.

Anyway, back to the eggs (and other pasture-raised goodies) while I'm waiting for my ricotta to finish curding. Having researched all the eggs offered at our local Whole Foods, I'm sad to say that only one "brand" seems to really(!) be  selling free-range, pastured eggs. Three cheers for Vital Farms, a co-op of farms in Texas, Arkansas,  Oklahoma and Georgia, whose parameters for including a farm under its purview include: pasture land that "must be USDA certified organic with a minimum of three years of no chemical input," the hens and all feed that they don't consume from the pasture must be USDA organic certified too, and the chickens and hens roam around and get exercise, laying eggs on their own natural schedule.

Nutritional Differences: Pastured animals produce nutritionally different (better) meat and eggs. When animals are allowed to eat what they evolved to -grasses and other plants, insects, etc- they consume a multiplicity of vitamins not found in industrial by-product corn- and soy-meal. And, as Vital Farms and others stress, when animals roam outdoors rather than being locked inside, they benefit from sun-based Vitamin D, just like we do. When animals can move, run, release stress via movement, their meat is leaner, more nutritious. In Real Food, Nina Planck (founder of the NYC Greenmarket), writes that feedlot cattle are "30% fat by body weight--technically obese" while their grass-fed counterparts produce meat that's lean as a skinless chicken breast.

The fat content in these meats are different too. Industrial beef contains less monounsaturated oleic acid (an LDL-lowering fatty acid), less CLA omega-6 fat (a polyunsaturated fat thought to help build lean muscle and prevent heart disease and possibly cancer) and all the growth hormones (including known endocrine disruptors) and antibiotics the cattle are administered to fatten up quickly and ward off feedlot-born diseases before slaughter.

Pastured and industrially grown cattle produce much different milk too. Grass-fed cows' milk contains "more omega-3s, more vitamin A and more beta-carotene and other antioxidants" than their feedlot kin. Planck, pulling from a Journal of Dairy Science report, notes that "the CLA in grass-fed butterfat is 500% greater than the butterfat of cows eating a typical dairy ration."

Likewise for eggs, a wonderful source of protein, biotin, lutein, and choline. And as the Vital Farms website states, "in comparison to a conventional egg, pasture raised eggs contain:

  • 1⁄3 less cholesterol
  • 1⁄4 less saturated fat
  • 2⁄3 more Vitamin A
  • 2 times more omega-3 fatty acids
  • 3 times more Vitamin E
  • 7 times more beta carotene

as well as 4 to 6 times more Vitamin D than conventional eggs."

How many of those vitamins and fats do you recognize by virtue of seeing at your market, one upon another new product boasting of their inclusion? They've got to be good if nutrition scientists want to add them to everything from cereal to yogurt and so on. But you can also get them naturally!

Yes, these products cost more -a dozen Vital Farms eggs is $5.99- but I think that it's not hard to see why. If a farmer is providing enough land on which animals can roam and feed, respecting their natural reproductive schedules, slaughtering them humanely and cleanly, it adds up. As one who has tried repeatedly to harvest more than 2 organic strawberries from my backyard, I can tell you that it's damn hard and I definitely understand why a pint of them cost $5.

If we had real Farm Bill reform, subsidizing this kind of real food rather than corn, soybeans and what you can make from them, costs would go down, accessibility would go up, and we and our Earth would be all the healthier for it. In the meantime, get out to your local farmers markets and demand better from your grocery stores! Go Team!

Good associated reading: Real Food by Nina Planck, The Omnivores Dilemma and pretty much anything else by Michael Pollan, Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer.

Down for the count

I am wiped out. Done. Cashed. Tuckered out. Pooped. Fried'ish. Tired. Also, my throat is killing me, and I'm achey. International Day (at O's school this morning; the reason for my having made the 100 meatballs and cut hundreds of paper strips for flags last night) was totally exhausting. Many of the kids were cute and interactive, but honestly, it seemed that almost as many were slimy, boogery, seemingly mute, deer-in-the-headlights tots. It was pouring brickbats outside, and the event was overwhelming for every parent with whom I spoke, so I get that for the 2-4 age range it was probably even more so, but still. Please at least respond with a nod of the head if you can't use a word. Sheesh. By the end I was feeling glad that at least a quarter of them refused to taste my meatballs; that meant I'd have hard-earned leftovers for my boys (who devoured them) and for us tonight. And then there was the kid who rudely held his nose and screamed, "What is that disgusting smell? YUK!" You turd; just shut up and don't ask for one. I swear, where are the manners? Are they going the way of cursive? I hope not.

Overall, the primary feelings with which I left were a) I sure do love my little boy, and b) once again, "thank god I am not a teacher." I admire teachers, am grateful for every wonderful one out there who changed my life and will surely do the same for my and many other children, I think good teachers should be paid more, I think teaching should be a more lauded and lofty profession. None of this changes the fact that I have never wanted to actually be a teacher. While I love my own children and a number of other wee ones I know, there are a great many others I'd just as soon not spend any additional time with. If I were forced to, by virtue of being their teacher, I'm just not sure I could do it.

T got home early, just in time to read stories and finish the bedtime act. Amen for business accounts that allow for expensive flights the purchaser can then change at any time.

Gardening is great, pizza night for the Oscars

Sore in the best way, I am basking in hours just spent working hard in the garden. Those strawberry roots are insidious; their sweet, meek leaves belie the havoc they're wreaking just underneath the top layer of soil. Root systems like a manic kudzu or wisteria, I found I'd neglected them too long and really had to get in there with my pitchfork and trowel. I uprooted a bunch and replanted them in a self-contained pot. We'll see what sort of success they find there, and perhaps too, I'll be able to harvest the fruit before the critters on the ground. I'm impressed with the tenacity of the greens and herbs. No matter how deathly the parsley and chives look, back they come as soon as the days warm up enough. And the kales and radicchios must groove on a cold spell, because they are looking fine out there. I think I'll put this guy in our ravioli tomorrow. Are y'all Oscars watchers? I love the dresses most. The new format of who isn't nominated leaves something to be desired in my opinion, but then again, ever since Titanic was nominated for best picture, I've been on the outs with the MPA. I mean really, Titanic? Blech! Nonetheless, the pomp is a little bit wonderful, and we'll be tucking in to a fantastic pizza and some cocktails while nearly prostrate on the couch- a hell of a night ahead. Hats off to my mom's spirit as tonight will mark the 32th annual Oscars party she's hosted with, might I add, many of the same attendees. Go team! Mom often dons blue jean shorts, a tuxedo shirt and bow tie, passes out ballots, everyone votes, imbibes a'plenty, and she gives out prizes at the end. I love it.