Backyard Chickens

[HOST INTRO] A bird is helping blur the boundary between urban and rural America.  A few years ago, a chicken would have been a reliable sign that you’d crossed into farm country.  No more.  As correspondent Guy Hand reports in this installment of Edible Idaho, chickens are invading many American cities — and helping urbanites connect not only to their food, but to a new kind of community.

(Chicken sounds)  (Blackhurst) Yeah, come on . . . (Gate clicking) Most people come in here and they say “I don’t even know that I’m in the city.”

(Hand) That’s because Jay Blackhurst and his neighbors have turned a hundred foot long, dirt alley into a shared chicken run.  They call it “The Collective Coop” and it’s populated with poultry.

(Blackhurst) In the 50’s I guess when they built this neighborhood, they had never really opened the alley up to cars or anything.  And so when I moved here five ears ago, it was just weeds.

(Hand) Blackhurst decided to clean up this Boise alley, fence it off and put in a few chickens.  He didn’t expect to start a movement.

(Blackhurst) And soon as I put my chickens back here, then Lisa and Keith wanted to put their chickens back here and then Molly said can I put chickens back here and I said lets put ‘em all back here.  So then I had my coop, I got rid of that and we made this one collective coop.  (Hand) So this is a community shared coop?  (Jay) A community shared coop.

(Latimer) It’s amazing how the chickens have transformed the back alleyway so everyone can enjoy it.

(Hand) That’s neighbor and fellow chicken owner Lisa Latimer.

Jay Blackhurst and Lisa Latimer in their neighborhood chicken alley called the "Collective Coop."

(Latimer) We got to know Jay and his family, we know Molly and her family, we know quite a few other neighbors that we’ve met and all the children come back here and play.  There’s hardly an evening that goes by that all of us aren’t out here visiting or enjoying each others company.  So it’s a wonderful thing for our neighborhood.  (Hand) So community sort of brought together by chickens?  (Jay)  Yea, yea, pretty much.

(Hand) So how do people keep their eggs separate?  (Lisa)  Oh, who ever needs eggs get eggs for the day.  (Hand) So there’s no egg accounting or anything? (Jay) No nobody’s. . . (Lisa) We all think it’s wonderful that Jay has a little 2 year old, she has a basket, she gets the eggs and then she distributes them around the neighborhood.  It’s just cute watching the kids out there.

(Latimer) This house on the end just sold, so (laughing) we have to get them involved pretty soon.  (Hand) Do they have documents they have to sign or anything? (Laughing) (Hand) Chicken friendly . . . (Jay) Chicken friendly documents, for sure. . .

(Hand) Now, the community nature of this alleyway chicken scene isn’t typical, but it does illustrate an exploding national interest in raising urban poultry.

Sign on Boise chicken coop

(Ludlow)  It’s actually been about 2 1/2 to 3 years where the trend really started to pick up.

(Hand) California-based Rob Ludlow is owner of Backyard Chickens.com and co-author of the book “Raising Chickens for Dummies.”

(Ludlow) What I’ve seen is that people see that chickens really are a multi-purpose pet.  They’re relatively easy to care for, they eat bugs and weeds in your yard, they generate fantastic fertilizer, they’re fun to watch and interact with.

(Hand) And of course, they lay eggs.  But Ludlow says there’s another, more fundamental reason for the popularity of urban chickens.

(Ludlow)  And I think this is the biggest, especially over the last 2 years.  Many urban, suburbanites really want to join in the movement towards self sufficiency, growing local, being green, etc.  The problem is that most people don’t have the ability or the space to raise cows, pigs, have a huge garden.  Having a handful of egg laying hens in a relatively small yard allows these people to participate in these movements without having to change their zip code or move to another city.

(Hand) A large number of urban areas have written ordinances that allow for chickens.

A white crested black polish backyard chicken

(Ludlow) Berkley, Seattle, Portland, those are some cities that are chicken friendly . . . San Jose, San Francisco, chicken friendly.  On the east coast New York is chicken friendly . . .

(Hand) There are cities that worry about the possible noise, odor and sheer Beverly Hillbilly-esque nature of urban chickens.  Salem, Oregon currently prohibits chickens.  Spokane restricts the building of coops.  But Boise allows three hens per small urban lot and, on larger lots, more.

(Medlin) Chickens!  Come on, come on (laughing)

(Hand) Polls say the number one reason Americans keep chickens is for eggs — meat is a distant third.

(Medlin) . . . That’s Cheeky and that’s Parrot . . .

New backyard chicken enthusiast Shellan Rodriguez and friend

(Hand) . . . but a close second — and this might come as a surprise to some — is companionship.  The birds themselves, and their interesting, sometimes complex behavior is what first attracted Boise’s Susan Medlin to a friend’s chickens.

(Medlin) The more I observed them, the more fascinating I found them to be.  And they were clearly not the bird brains that they’re made out to be.  That’s quite a misnomer actually.

(Hand) Medlin became a backyard chicken expert, raising her own brood and eventually teaching classes on the subject.

(Medlin) The long and short of it is that chickens were really my doorway to avian life.  And I’m amazed and I can understand now why people are such dedicated birders and they’re just incredible.  And so chickens, I have chickens to thank for that and they are a credible members of the whole bird family.

(Hand) Urban chicken owners in a recent survey said they felt that chickens were easier to raise than dogs and nearly as easy as cats.

Reuben Kosche in front of the family coop

(Medlin) I think if the chickens had their way, the chickens would be house chickens, they would be lap chickens, they would be under the covers chickens.

(Hand) This rather cozy relationship with a farm animal is a far cry from the factory-like realities of large poultry plants.  The backyard chicken movement is, at least in part, a reaction to the harsh, some say inhumane treatment of poultry — as revealed in recent books and this scene from the documentary Food Inc.

(Woman) It is nasty in here.  There’s dust flying everywhere.  There’s feces everywhere.  This isn’t farming.  This is just mass production like an assembly line in a factory.

(Hlebechuk) I think if you educate yourself to the whole industrial farming at all by either reading a book or watching a documentary, you kind of get scared.

(Hand) That’s Deanna Hlebechuk.  She and her family raise chickens in downtown Boise’s North End.

(Hlebechuk) It’s really a horrible way for these animals to be treated and I think by having our own chickens and a son, it helps him be educated as to making better choices during his life.

Fresh backyard eggs, the #1 reason people keep chickens

(Hand) Hlebechuk’s husband, Robert Kosche knows just how far an urban chicken farmer will go to save a bird — bird a commercial poultry plant would throw in the bin.

(Kosche) We were brooding a little hatchling that had what’s called splayed leg syndrome where the legs are kind of rubbery and kind of splay out to the sides.  If that’s not fixed the bird will die within a week or two because he can’t get to food or water.  So what we did, was we took duct tape in kind of a McGyver fashion we built a little leg brace for this chicken.  And every day we would do a physical therapy with this little bird, we would pat him on the bottom to make him run, he would run a few feet and then tumble and then he’d run a few feet and he’d tumble.  And after two weeks we took the braces off and the bird could walk on his own.  The bird grew up to be one of the strongest we’ve ever seen.

(Hand) Physical therapy for chickens is not likely to be adopted by commercial agriculture.  Yet this small act illustrates the ethical gap that’s grown between industrial food producers and many consumers.  Raising backyard chickens may not change the poultry industry, but it will bring urbanites closer to their food — and make for better omelets.

(Hand) For Edible Idaho and Boise State Public Radio, I’m Guy Hand.

Here’s a story on cool backyard chicken coops.

And an unsettling new revelation: Arsenic in chicken feed

An underground dinner in rural Washington wine country.

[HOST INTRO] Underground markets and restaurants have popped up all over the country.  They open their doors only briefly, for an afternoon or an evening, in ever changing, often secret locations. Like 21st Century speakeasies for the foodie set, they sidestep the high overhead and complex regulations that traditional food establishments face.

In this installment of Edible Idaho, correspondent Guy Hand slips into the Northwest world of underground food.

(Sounds at market)  (Hand) With a smile and a legal waiver, a Treasure Valley, Idaho woman greets me at an unmarked door.  Inside I find what she calls an underground food market.

Bacon cupcake from underground market in Idaho.

(Hand) And what is that?  (Woman) It’s a little secret membership club where you can sign up in advance to come to this secret food market, sort of like the farmers’ market that’s downtown but, you know, it’s a little club, we’re not professionals, we’re die-hard amateurs.  (Hand) Is it legal?  (Woman) It is legal.  We have a lawyer (laughing).  (Hand) Oh, that makes it legal if you have a lawyer?  (Woman) We worked very hard with our lawyer to get this up and running properly.

(Hand) So how is it different than a farmers’ market?  (Woman) The difference is really just that we’re not paying a lot of money first of all to come set up a booth at a farmers’ market, but secondly, a lot of us have been trying really hard to break into the professional scene.  There’s such a high cost associated with doing things professionally that this, we determined would be the best way to have a bunch of people start working towards becoming completely legitimate.

(Woman) That’s the short answer (laughing) (Hand) And are there any advantages for the consumer? (Woman) Yes, well there’s a huge price break.  For example, I was traveling around yesterday trying to compare our prices and the difference is huge.

(Hand) This woman, who prefers to remain anonymous, says the morel mushrooms they’ve got are half the price of the store-bought version.

Various breads and scones available at underground market.

(Hand) So what are some of the things that are available? (Woman) Let’s see, I’m going to go around the room . . . There are raspberry plants, fresh spinach, catnip, quinio cakes that you can eat today, different kinds of cupcakes, andouillie sausage made locally.

(Hand)  And what’s the advantage of making it underground or secret? (Woman)  That component is partly so that everybody knows that they’re buying something that people produced in their own home, so it’s more like a club and we feel like that’s a little bit more fun too, for people, so they kind of have to find out about it through the grape vine . . .

(Hand) This woman admits the secrecy is there also to keep the health department from knocking down the door.  She understands the importance of food safety, but thinks, like many in the underground food movement, that regulations are not only burdensome but often misplaced.

(Woman) . . . a lot of these things are actually better for you because we’re not using nitrates or nitrites and because we’re not boiling the kimchee to make it so that it has no bacteria in it, and we’re not boiling the goat cheese so it’s completely flavorless and bad for you.

(Hand) It seems like, getting back to those strict rules, they’re often times geared for big industrial food organizations and not small producers that can’t pay for or can’t follow those kinds of regulations and this seems like a way to get around that.  (Woman)  You got it.  You totally just nailed it.  I mean it’s just like radio.  If you look on the radio dial, everybody on the radio is going to be this huge, giant company, but there’s no way that little people can get in edge-wise because of all the laws and the cost.  And so here we are, we’re the little people, we’re getting in edge-wise, that’s it. (laughing)

An amuse bouche of salt cod fritter in romesco sauce at underground dinner.

(Crossfade to sounds at underground dinner) (Chef) The bottom of this bowl is hot ‘cause it was on a burner so hold it right here, a pinch on every plate . . .

(Hand) Some underground aficionados have already done time on the  above-board, big-boy side of the food industry.  (Chef) So it doesn’t take a lot K.B., not a lot.  (Hand) Today, I’m in Washington state with a chef who once owned a critically acclaimed restaurant.  He gave it up for the freedom, he says, comes with cooking underground.

(Chef) Brandon, once they get the pesto they can go . . .

Salad of local greens and vegetables with sherry vinaigrette at underground dinner.

(Hand) Tonight this chef, who also wants to remain anonymous, is preparing a multi-course underground meal for thirty-two.  He divulged the location — a stunning orchid greenhouse in rural Washington — just the night before.

(Hand) Is it better than having a restaurant?  (Chef) Well, you know what, at least there’s a bottom line here.  As you know, having a restaurant, there’s no bottom line.  It’s a way of enjoying what you do and actually not having all the costs that actually kill a restaurant.

(Hand)  Along with lower cost and limitless location possibilities, he’s also free to make last minute menu changes.

(Chef) I’m dealing with ultra fresh stuff here, I mean I wait to write the menu until almost last minute and then scramble to get the stuff ‘cause I want to see what’s in season, what I have . . .

(Hand) The chef pops open a cooler of just procured early spring produce.

(Chef) This is all of our goodies in here.  Fava beans, chive flowers, local radishes.  Right here is the prized possession of the day: that’s all the strawberries that are in Walla Walla right now.  I bought ‘em at the market this morning.  Paid the guy $20 for two pints.

(Hand) That quest for perfect ingredients, the surprising locale and the mildly illicit allure of an underground dinner has attracted a well-heeled and appreciative clientele.

Guests at orchid house in rural Washington state.

(Guest) I don’t think any of us would have dreamt of having a meal like this in an orchid hot house.  It’s just wonderful.  It’s just great variety, it’s imaginative and it is just a great deal of fun.

(Hand) Some say the underground restaurant scene was born ten years ago in Portland, Oregon.  It then spread to Europe and beyond.  Regulatory agencies are predictably unhappy with these unlicensed, off-the-grid events.  But proponents argue that they fill a need tradition food establishments simply don’t satisfy.

(Chef) Alright, sorry I didn’t get out right away to tell you what that last course was . . .

(Hand) From an undisclosed Northwest location, I’m Guy Hand

(Chef) That course right there was a fava bean flan . . .

Detail of Garden O' Feedin' sign

[HOST INTRO] Religions frequently struggle to find a balance between the spiritual and material world.  To some people Heaven and Earth often seem at odds.  Today, though, many faith-based organizations are finding that balance . . . in the garden.

In this installment of Edible Idaho, correspondent Guy Hand looks at churches that believe good soil can nurture the human soul.

(Sunday service sounds)  (Hand) A Sunday service at an evangelical church, like the Treasure Valley’s Vineyard Christian Fellowship, isn’t the first place I’d go for a story on gardening. There are multiple video screens, a massive stage full of musicians and a sermon I assume will focus on Judgement Day more than top soil. But my assumptions falter as soon as I meet pastor Tri Robinson.

Sign in Garden o' Feedin' garden

(Robinson) There is a stereotype, that came out of primarily out of the 70’s.  And it basically said it’s all going to burn anyway, so why should we care.  As a result of that, evangelical Christians became sort of known to be anti-environmentalists.

(Hand) Pastor Robinson, a former ecology major and a high school biology teacher, grew increasingly uncomfortable with that stereotype.  So one day he pulled out his Bible.

(Robinson) And I studied for about six months through the scriptures, being a good evangelical, and realized somehow we were totally missing God’s council.  So I preached a series of sermons why Christians should care for the environment and got standing ovations in my church.  I had never had that in all the time I had been preaching, but it started something here.

(Hand) What it started was a kind of evangelical environmentalism — and in 1998 a garden, what the congregation christened the Garden O’ Feedin’.

(Robinson) It all sort of came together.  Our organic garden was an expression of our attitude towards creation in many ways.  We realized we could actually connect these two worlds, especially when it came to our responsibility to the poor.

(Hand) To that end, all the produce harvested from the church’s garden is given to the disadvantaged, for free.  Gardener and church member Sharmin Reynolds is working the dirt on a sunny Saturday.

Church gardener Sharmin Reynolds

(Reynolds)  The food is grown for for one, the people in our own congregation that are in need of help, but it is grown for the people that come to the food bank.  And out here under this arbor we set up what we call a farmers‘ market.  None of the food is for sale, it’s given to the people who come out from the food bank.

(Hand)  The Garden O’ Feedin’ started as six raised beds, but, as Reynolds says, “with God’s help and a lot of compost” the garden has grown.

(Reynolds) Last year we produced over 31,000 pounds of food on two thirds of an acre, which is amazing.

(Hand) Word of this little organic garden soon spread. (Film soundtrack: It’s Saturday morning at the Boise Vineyard Church in Idaho . . . )  The Christian Broadcast Network did a TV show on the garden; So did Bill Moyer’s.  Environmental writer Bill McKibben even wrote a glowing article.  As a result, more churches say they’re seeing the spiritual value of good soil.

(Goodwin) In fact one of the local reporters called us the food church.

Garden O' Feedin' worker

(Hand) That’s pastor Craig Goodwin of the Millwood Presbyterian Church in Spokane.  His congregation just broke ground on their own community garden.  Goodwin thinks the blending of faith and food is natural.

(Goodwin) If you look at the biblical story, food is just a thread that you can kind of pull throughout the whole thing whether it’s the manna in the wilderness or Jesus gathering the disciples around the table or our central metaphor in our sanctuary is a communion table.  It is a table with food on it for gathering around.

(Hand)  But Goodwin sees food as more than Biblical metaphor.

(Goodwin) I’ve had to say to people that I’m not just using this as a carrot to kind of lead people along to somehow hopefully get involved with spiritual things, that I’m really concerned with real carrots in the world and that somehow God in my understanding and Jesus is redeeming all things and food is a big part of that.

(Hand) Pastor Goodwin says that of the dozen or so community gardens in Spokane, over half have faith-based groups involved. Nationally, new gardens — whether Christian, Muslim, Jewish or Buddhist — are popping up all over.

(Sound of praying in garden): All right shall we bow?  Father, we just thank you . . . (Hand) Back at the Vineyard Fellowship garden, workers are holding hands in a circle, praying.  Sharmin Reynolds finds faith-based gardening a perfect blend of the spiritual and the practical.

(Reynolds) With the economy the way that it is right now, people like myself all of a sudden have found themselves without a job, no way to support their family, no way to feed their family and they’re terrified, they’re embarrassed, they feel terrible.  And honestly we’ve got some of our very best workers from that situation because we offer them the opportunity to come out and work in the garden.  If you come out and work in the garden, you can feed your family.

(Hand) Reynolds says there’s no expectation that those new gardeners join the church.

Kid's in the Garden

(Reynolds) You have people that come that probably won’t go to church.  It feels just a little too boxed in for them.  But they’ll come out here and they’ll commune with people out here.  And there’s a lot of healing that goes on out here.  There’s a lot to be said for dirt.  It’s good for you (laughing).

(Hand) Writer Wendell Berry says of dirt: “It is impossible to contemplate the life of the soil without seeing it as analogous to the life of the spirit.”  Or as Sharmin Reynolds would say “Gardens feed the soul as well as the belly.”

(Hand)  In Garden City, Idaho, I’m Guy Hand.

Food critic Anton Ego in the Disney film Ratatouille Walt Disney / Everett

[HOST INTRO] Edible Idaho producer and print journalist Guy Hand has written on controversial subjects in the past like clear-cut logging, mining pollution and factory farming.  But none of those stories prepared him for the perils of writing restaurant reviews. In this installment of Edible Idaho, correspondent Guy Hand drops us into the boiling pot of food criticism.

(Message machine): First saved message. (Restaurateur) Hello Mr. Hand, this is . . .

(Hand) Two years ago, when I started writing the Idaho Statesman’s restaurant reviews, I knew the job would be challenging.

(Restaurateur) On a personal note, that review was disrespectful, it was rude . .

(Hand) But, I quickly learned that restaurant reviews can provoke more vitriol than what might seem to be more serious subjects.

(Restaurateur) So, don’t ever call us, don’t ever come into our restaurant and do not leave cheap compliments on my message machine.  Thank you.  (Hang up, message machine): End of message.  Delete press seven . . .

(Hand) Now, critics are obviously as deserving of criticism as the establishments they criticize.  I accept that.  But why would I get a more passionate response for a story, say, on undercooked risotto than one on the lead poisoning of North Idaho children?

(Daigle) Everyone eats and so everyone thinks that they’re an expert in food.

(Hand)  That’s Rachael Dagle. Both she and Amy Atkins of the Boise Weekly do restaurant reviews. They say those reviews elicit the most emotional responses of any subject in their paper — both from restaurant owners and customers alike.  But why? Amy Atkins:

(Atkins) Well I was going to say the difference definitely with, take for example a movie, then tell someone what a terrible movie they thought it was, Cameron Crow probably isn’t going to hear that.  But when you say something about a restaurant, you may know the owner, you may be friends with someone who works there and so those things become not just the idea that well, I’ve eaten there and I thought it was fine, it seems to have a far more emotional impact.

(Hand) To me it seems also that food is so connected to memory and family and that just invests so much more emotion than say than even a movie because it goes right to the childhood memory.

(Daigle) And not just childhood memories. Depending on your mood and your experience and the people you’re with in a restaurant, that can really make a meal or if you’re breaking up with your significant other over dinner you probably won’t go back to that restaurant.  The opposite is also true, if you have maybe it’s a first date and you’re really connecting with someone, the food might seem far better in retrospect.

(Atkins) I agree.  I was going to say we fall in love over food.

(Hand) We also fall in love with food and with restaurants.  It’s a relationship very close to a love affair.  So, a bad review is like me telling the world your girlfriend is a bad kisser.  No wonder critics get angry phone calls, even death threats.

Peter & Hilary Blatz at their Cottonwood Grille

(Blatz) It kind of hits you where you live whereas something like improper mining at a place in CDA far, far away from you — although it’s a very important issue — is not as front-of-mind for most folks.

(Hand) That’s Peter Blatz.  He and his wife Hilary own the Cottonwood Grille, one of Boise’s high-end eateries — and a restaurant I gave a less than glowing review six months ago.  I thought it only fair to find out what they think of reviews and reviewers.  Hillary Blatz:

(Hilary Blatz) The responses that we saw after the review came out, we saw it on both sides, we saw people we came out and you know they walked through our doors because they wanted to come and support us, but I also saw the other side of it too where there were people who agreed with the reviewer.  So it’s challenging, it’s challenging for all of us.

(Hand) It’s certainly challenging for me — a reviewer who cloaks himself in anonymity while doing a review — to sit face to face with people negatively impacted by his not-so-humble opinion.  What is humbling is Hilary and Peter Blatz’s generosity of spirit.  Rather than leaving a nasty, ripe-for-radio phone message, they did something far more affective at silencing criticism. They listened.

(Hilary Blatz) How did we react to the review? I think we took a step back, we wanted to look at the whole establishment and say hey, we need to step it up.  We need to do better.

(Peter Blatz)  We’re doing some painting, we’re changing out some artwork, we’ve done huge changes to our menu.

(Hand) Now, these are things they’d likely do anyway, but Peter Blatz adds you shouldn’t get into the restaurant business if you can’t handle the heat.

(Peter Blatz) We’re very competitive by nature.  You push a chef and he does better.  You push a restaurant and I think it either perishes or it improves.  And you know that’s the part of this business that keeps us running around.  If you like that and you can live with that pressure to always perform you’ll thrive in this business.  You know, some people don’t want that many gray hairs, and I can’t blame ‘em.

(Movie music)

(Hand) It would be self-serving and too neat a conclusion to suggest that the restaurateur and critic’s relationship is always beneficial.

(Server)  Do you know what you’d like this evening sir? (Aton Ego)  Yes, I’d like you’re heart roasted on a spit.

(Hand) Instead I’ll leave the pithy philosophical summation to a more worthy, if fictitious restaurant critic, Anton Ego, from the animated movie Ratatouille.

(Ego) In many ways the work of a critic is easy.  We risk very little but enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgement.  But the bitter truth we critics must face is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so.

(Hand) I should mention that on the day I met with Hilary and Peter Blatz, the Boise Weekly gave the Cottonwood Grille two glowing thumbs up.  I, perhaps not surprisingly, still get hate mail on a regular basis.

(Hand) For Edible Idaho and Boise State Radio, I’m Guy Hand.

The Boise Weekly Website

The Cottonwood Grille Website

The Ratatouille Movie Website

Photo by Guy Hand

It appears that a bill sponsored by Idaho Senator Tim Corder to update Idaho’s animal cruelty laws, which passed the Idaho Senate with a 34 to 1 margin, has been stalled and perhaps killed thanks to House committee leader Representative Tom Loertscher.

Idaho’s animal cruelty laws have been ranked by several organizations as some of the most lax in the country. Attempts to address that issue was the subject of a recent Edible Idaho program called “Animal Welfare on the Farm.”

According to AP reports “Rep. Tom Loertscher, an eastern Idaho rancher and House State Affairs Committee chair, won’t give [the bill] a hearing because he doesn’t like provisions that threaten livestock owners who don’t provide medical care to sick or injured animals with a misdemeanor.”

Another Corder bill that would have addressed the influx of factory poultry farms to Idaho (Idaho currently has no factory poultry regulations) was also sent to committee to die.

Senator Corder had spent months trying to bring agricultural interests, animal-rights groups and environmentalists together to craft bills that he himself called small steps toward Idaho’s rapidly growing and comparatively weakly regulated factory farm sector.

In an e-mailed statement Corder wrote “It is one thing for a committee or board to vote down a bill after consideration.  It is a tragedy when legitimate policy debates are deterred.”

The Humane Society of the United States, which recently ranked Idaho 49th by the number of laws the state has on the books addressing animal cruelty issues, is also criticizing the legislative move.

Here are the responses on the issue in today’s Idaho Statesman:

Why are they blocking animal cruelty bill?

I, and those who care about animals in this state, want answers from Rep. Tom Loertscher, House Affairs Committee chairman, and the House leadership team of Lawerence Denney, Mike Moyle, Scott Bedke and Ken Roberts. Why in the name of heaven aren’t they letting SB 1317 be heard in committee?

This bill is a decent compromise between those who want stricter penalties for acts of animal cruelty (like 45 other states already have) and various agriculture groups. These groups agreed on this bill. The Senate agreed that it made sense and passed it easily. Why can’t our House of Representatives at least hear it? Why won’t they explain why they “don’t like it”?

The session is almost over so I’m hoping for a miracle because I can’t stand the thought of another year without decent animal cruelty laws in Idaho.

KAMION GARNER, Boise

Time to emerge from the dark ages

I strongly support SB 1317, which provides stiffer penalties for those charged with animal cruelty/abuse and makes cockfighting a felony in Idaho. I understand the bill is “stalled” in the House State Affairs Committee in an act of basic “inaction.”

I understand faithful constituents of this bill have been sending or phoning Reps. Loertscher, Denney, Moyle, Bedke and Roberts with repeated inquiries on the status of this bill asking them to have a hearing and vote. To my knowledge, no responses are being received from any of the above legislators as to why they seem to be purposely “killing” this bill.

Although this bill is not nearly as extreme as I’d like to see, it’s a good compromise between all parties – including the agricultural industry – and it’s important that Idaho come out of the dark ages when it comes to the treatment of animals.

The statistics are well documented that the majority of animal abusers go on to commit more serious abuses and crimes with time. I don’t think any of us want cockfighting or animal fighting in our own neighborhoods, nor the type of people and drugs it attracts. We must make our legislators more accountable by requiring they pass this very important piece of legislation.

MELODIE JONES, Eagle

More on this story at the Idaho Statesman: http://www.idahostatesman.com/2010/03/25/1129691/some-bills-die-with-a-whisper.html

Pig confined in cage

The ethical treatment of farm animals is a growing concern for many Americans.  And that puts states with relatively few animal cruelty laws, like Idaho, in the cross-hairs of animal welfare groups.  It also makes those states attractive to livestock operations looking to relocate to less regulated areas.

In this installment of Edible Idaho, correspondent Guy Hand explores animal welfare on the farm.

Download the script for this Edible Idaho radio show.

Follow Senator Corder’s Animal Cruelty legislation S1317

Idaho Senator Tim Corder’s Website

Animal Legal Defense Fund Website

Humane Society of the U.S. Farm Animal Website

Idaho Dairymen’s Association

Animal Welfare Approved Website

Janie Burns’s Meadowlark Farm Website

[Show as slideshow]

[View with PicLens]

Photo by Paulette Phlipot

More and more people are getting directly involved in food. Growing it, cooking it, even blogging about it. Some are going still further: plunging — literally — into the meat of the matter.

In this installment of Edible Idaho, correspondent Guy Hand visits a class where every student wields a knife — and the desire to learn the fading art of butchery.

Download the script for this Edible Idaho radio show.

Lava Lake Lamb’s website: http://www.lavalakelamb.com/

From the New York Times: Young Butchers Gain Rock Star Status

From the Oregonian: Conscious carnivores, ethical butchers are changing food culture

And here’s an article on former vegetarian and current Portland, Or. butcher Berlin Reed. He calls himself an ethical omnivorism and theorizes an environmentally friendly future for meat.

Video & photos for this story are provided by Idaho photographer Paulette Phlipot:

Click here for Paulette’s Video of Hailey Butchery Class or check out the photos below:

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Jami Adams at Bittercreek Ale House. She's an Idaho's Bounty wholesale customer and board member. Photo by Guy Hand

Last Monday, Edible Idaho aired an NPR story on Idaho’s Bounty Co-op, a group bringing sustainably raised, local food to individual consumers.

Today, producer Guy Hand reports on Idaho’s Bounty’s attempt to provide large institutions like hospitals, universities and restaurants with local food. By selling wholesale quantities, Idaho’s Bounty plans to take home-grown meats, produce and dairy to the next level.  Large institutions could not only introduce a new audience to the virtues of fresh, local food, but give big farm and ranch operations, who routinely ship their products out of state on the commodity market, a chance to sell closer to home at higher margins. (Since Idaho’s Bounty specializes in sustainably raised foods, some conventional food producers might also be encouraged to step away from the factory-farm model of production — with its relience on pesticides, hormones and antibiotics — to fill the growing wholesale demand for organic and sustainably raised foods.)

Winter produce from Idaho's Bounty. Photo by Guy Hand

Still, there are plenty of hurdles to jump.  Food shipped from far away is inevitably cheaper (thanks, in large part, to agricultural subsidizes) and often more convenient for large institutions, as well as consumers, to purchase.  Yet, by catering to companies that traditionally considered themselves too big or too busy to bother with local food, Idaho’s Bounty hopes to incrementally push the local food movement from the farmers’-market-margins of the U.S. food system to something closer to the mainstream.

Download the script for this Idaho’s Bounty radio show.

And for further information on Idaho’s Bounty go to: Idaho’s Bounty Website

Photo by Paulette Phlipot

The local food movement is exploding in popularity.  At this time of year, though, fresh local produce can seem like a distant memory.  But even as the snow flies, there are people connecting hungry consumers to local food.

In this installment of Edible Idaho, correspondent Guy Hand visits Idaho’s Bounty Co-op, a pioneer in the distribution of home-grown food.

Download the script for this Idaho’s Bounty radio show.

And for further information on Idaho’s Bounty go to: Idaho’s Bounty Website

Many of the photos for this story are provided by Idaho photographer Paulette Phlipot

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Basque men cleaning leeks for Basque blood sausage

Tis the season for holiday feasting.  But some celebratory foods can be a little hard to swallow.

Like blood sausage.

Made from the blood of freshly killed animals, it’s not exactly a holiday favorite.  So why have people flocked every November for over a half century to the Boise Basque Center . . . to eat blood sausage?

In this installment of Edible Idaho, correspondent Guy Hand bites into the mysterious allure of Basque blood sausage.

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