youâre supporting a community, an economy, a way of life. Youâre feeling good: about dinner, about the restaurant, about yourselfâhell, maybe even about the world and your place in it.
And why wouldnât you?
Hearing and reading these paeans to local farmers, youâd assume that most of the raw materials that come through those kitchen doors are local, wouldnât you? Perhaps not everythingâsalt and pepper, for instance, arenât local. But a lot. Three-quarters of all the products, say. Or more than half.
Youâre assuming too much.
For most restaurants, the answer is around 30 percent. That figure tends to be higher in the warmer months and lower in the colder ones. âIn the summertime, 40 to 50 percent maybe,â Tom Meyer of Clydeâs Restaurant Group says.
Maybe.
Touting a connection to the land and saluting âourâ farmers seems a dubious practice when only a third of all the products are from local purveyors. I donât doubt that, from the restaurantâs perspective, the 30 percent is more meaningful than the other 70 percent because it took time and effort to procure. All products arenât equal. But if local is something to support, something that matters, shouldnât it matter for the other 70 percent?
One restaurateur says that neither he nor any of his peers is buying items like onions and carrots and celery from local sources. Theyâre making their investment, he says, in âcorn and tomatoesâthings that make a difference.â
A cynic might say: things that get noticed.
Another restaurateur, a man deeply committed to local, confesses that while he sources regularly from more than a dozen purveyors, the milk and cream in his area restaurants arenât local.
Milk and cream? Shouldnât those be the least we can assume comes from nearby farms?
Heâd much rather serve locally produced milk and cream in his restaurants, he says, but canât find a consistent source to meet the volume he needsâa problem many restaurateurs also allude to. One local dairy delivery company adheres to such a strict radius that it wonât permit its trucks to go a few extra miles to make a drop-off at one of his restaurants.
The channels of distribution for local farmers arenât well developed, in marked contrast to the enormously efficient networks that bring food to supermarkets and chain restaurants. Products that might meet a particular need, at a volume that makes them attractive to chefs, arenât always getting to the restaurants that want them.
These are real concerns and ought not to be minimized. Local requires more work, more thought, and more investment.
At the same time, when youâve embraced an ideology that revolves around notions of purity and piety, no one wants to hear about the obstacles that prevent you from being more holy. Excuses will be construed as weakness. You open yourself to charges of hypocrisy if youâre anything less than completely faithful in your adherence.
Or, at the very least, to charges of hype.
The fact that distribution is lacking is real. So is the fact that itâs possible to source minimally from local farmers and still fly the flag of local.
Lying with Local
Elaine Boland possesses the flinty skepticism of many small farmers accustomed to selling their hard-earned products to urbanites. To talk to her for any length of time is to hear a woman who has grown weary of interactions with people who donât grasp the rhythms of the seasons and the exigencies of life lived close to the land.
She says she ârededicatedâ her company, Fields of Athenry, in Purcellville, to these older, elemental values after her daughter was diagnosed with Cushingâs syndrome, which results from exposure to high levels of the hormone cortisol. Two holistic doctors suggested she try a nutrient-rich diet. The diet helped, and Boland was moved torethink her operation. If eating
And why wouldnât you?
Hearing and reading these paeans to local farmers, youâd assume that most of the raw materials that come through those kitchen doors are local, wouldnât you? Perhaps not everythingâsalt and pepper, for instance, arenât local. But a lot. Three-quarters of all the products, say. Or more than half.
Youâre assuming too much.
For most restaurants, the answer is around 30 percent. That figure tends to be higher in the warmer months and lower in the colder ones. âIn the summertime, 40 to 50 percent maybe,â Tom Meyer of Clydeâs Restaurant Group says.
Maybe.
Touting a connection to the land and saluting âourâ farmers seems a dubious practice when only a third of all the products are from local purveyors. I donât doubt that, from the restaurantâs perspective, the 30 percent is more meaningful than the other 70 percent because it took time and effort to procure. All products arenât equal. But if local is something to support, something that matters, shouldnât it matter for the other 70 percent?
One restaurateur says that neither he nor any of his peers is buying items like onions and carrots and celery from local sources. Theyâre making their investment, he says, in âcorn and tomatoesâthings that make a difference.â
A cynic might say: things that get noticed.
Another restaurateur, a man deeply committed to local, confesses that while he sources regularly from more than a dozen purveyors, the milk and cream in his area restaurants arenât local.
Milk and cream? Shouldnât those be the least we can assume comes from nearby farms?
Heâd much rather serve locally produced milk and cream in his restaurants, he says, but canât find a consistent source to meet the volume he needsâa problem many restaurateurs also allude to. One local dairy delivery company adheres to such a strict radius that it wonât permit its trucks to go a few extra miles to make a drop-off at one of his restaurants.
The channels of distribution for local farmers arenât well developed, in marked contrast to the enormously efficient networks that bring food to supermarkets and chain restaurants. Products that might meet a particular need, at a volume that makes them attractive to chefs, arenât always getting to the restaurants that want them.
These are real concerns and ought not to be minimized. Local requires more work, more thought, and more investment.
At the same time, when youâve embraced an ideology that revolves around notions of purity and piety, no one wants to hear about the obstacles that prevent you from being more holy. Excuses will be construed as weakness. You open yourself to charges of hypocrisy if youâre anything less than completely faithful in your adherence.
Or, at the very least, to charges of hype.
The fact that distribution is lacking is real. So is the fact that itâs possible to source minimally from local farmers and still fly the flag of local.
Lying with Local
Elaine Boland possesses the flinty skepticism of many small farmers accustomed to selling their hard-earned products to urbanites. To talk to her for any length of time is to hear a woman who has grown weary of interactions with people who donât grasp the rhythms of the seasons and the exigencies of life lived close to the land.
She says she ârededicatedâ her company, Fields of Athenry, in Purcellville, to these older, elemental values after her daughter was diagnosed with Cushingâs syndrome, which results from exposure to high levels of the hormone cortisol. Two holistic doctors suggested she try a nutrient-rich diet. The diet helped, and Boland was moved torethink her operation. If eating
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