August 13th, 2009 by Chris Eng

The last two times Carla and I have been to the supermarket, we’ve bought a beet. We like beets–they’re tasty and provide a nice earthy accent, especially grated on top of salads. Both times, our cashier has rung our purchases through, gotten to the beet, started at it blankly and asked us, “What is this?”

“It’s a beet,” Carla responded cheerily, both times.

The girl we ended up with on the second occasion was not fazed by this response. “What do you do with it?” she asked.

“You eat it,” Carla responded, just as cheerily, proceeding to go into the various ways which it could be cooked and/or eaten raw.

Okay, so, I know that society’s eating habits are changing and things familiar a generation or so ago have become strange and dropped out of our eating habits, but has the next generation (because both cashiers were probably 21 or younger) become so out of touch with produce that it can’t identify one of the most common root vegetables? Also, is it out of line to think that supermarket employees should be able to recognize such, or at least not brandish a look of extreme bafflement after being told what it is? These are the thoughts that keep me awake at night.

August 12th, 2009 by Chris Eng

The 100-Mile Diet: A Year of Local Eating
Alisa Smith & J.B. MacKinnon
(Vintage)
ISBN: 978-0679314837

At some point, my aunt asked me to review something happy in order to help assuage my cousin, who apparently is going through what I went through a year or so ago and is suffering a bit of the “PEAK OIL IS HAPPENING TO US AND CIVILIZATION IS GOING TO COLLAPSE AND WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE IN A ROAD WARRIOR-LIKE WASTELAND!” And my mom, after I handed her my copy of Why Your World Is About to Get a Whole Lot Smaller (because I thought she might appreciate the info therein), asked, “This isn’t going to make me depressed, is it?”

Yeah, I guess there’s a lot of gloom and depression mixed in with environmental books nowadays, because (depending on who the author is) it’s either too late or almost too late to fix things in the world, and while that may be the actual state of affairs, it’s not exceptionally heartening to have it repeatedly hammered into your skull. This review, then, is for my cousin, mother and anyone else who may want to read a book review of something inspiring a certain degree of hope.

The premise of The 100 Mile Diet is simple: a couple decide that all they’ll eat for a year are those things which can be produced within a 100 mile radius of where they live. The premise provides ample opportunity for elitism, snobbiness and hard-linery to proliferate in the book and could have easily turned into a proscription for Righteous Living, but it is miraculously devoid of more or less any of that, instead making its case as a sensible suggestion. This is a marked difference from the usual doomsaying environmental bestsellers who seem to think that telling you “IF YOU DON’T LIVE YOUR LIFE THIS WAY, WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!” is a practical and non-alienating course of action. In fact, without trying to give too much away (SPOILER ALERT: they make it through the year), at the end of the book they go back to eating some of the things they weren’t allowed to. But that’s essentially Alisa Smith and JB McKinnon’s point: for all of us to move into an ethical future is for all of us to live as ethically as we can and do the best we can; not to embrace some unrealistic hairshirt environmental dogma which requires us to martyr ourselves for unattainable goals that nobody else cares about.

No, there is no coffee grown within a hundred miles of Vancouver (which, coincidentally, is where I’m from and where Smith and McKinnon are based). But there are free trade and ethical choices you can make in your coffee consumption. Or black tea. Or chocolate. Because again, no one is asking you to be a monk—just do what you can. What the book does encourage, though, is putting in the footwork and not giving up in your quest for viable alternatives. By putting themselves in a situation where they couldn’t bend the rules, they were forced to keep looking for things like wheat, which—despite the lack of grain farmers on BC’s coast—they eventually found. Yes, we who occupy the Vancouver/Victoria area tend to be a little spoiled in our options, because most things can be grown in our neck of the woods, but wherever there have been permanent settlements of humans, there have been the means to thrive locally. Of course, that equation has become pretty skewed with the rise of the metropoli—you can’t feed a city of 1,000,000+ on purely organic, locally raised food (not under our current structure, anyway)—but the general principle is sound.

But why, you wonder to yourself, would I want to eat locally in the first place—what’s the point? Well, there are a few of them.

- Locally grown food is more nutritious. It’s not that organic produce has a bigger selection of vitamins or nutrients than vegetables grown on industrial farms, but local produce is generally picked much closer to its sale date than the stuff in your supermarket. Since produce accumulates nutrients as it approaches ripeness, it only makes sense that a tomato picked the day before it’s sold will be more nutritious that one that’s picked and shipped when it’s still green.
- Locally grown food is likely to be more ecologically sound. Some small-scale farmers use toxic pesticides and chemically-laden fertilizer, but not all of them do, and if you’re buying from the grower personally, you can ask what their standards and practices are yourself. Plus, on a very basic level, locally grown food is good for the environment because growing things benefits the environment. I hope I don’t have to explain this point.
- Buying local is also good for the economy—your local economy. It will probably cost more to shop that way, yeah, but if and when post-peak oil becomes a reality, food prices will start to go through the roof regardless, and I’d rather pay higher prices and support someone I know on a first-hand basis because I buy from them all the time than funnel my hard-earned food dollars into a faceless corporation’s coffers in exchange for some comparatively bland food.
- Which brings us ’round to the last (and possibly most) compelling reason: locally-grown food tastes better. It does. Seriously. Vegetables are delicious enough to eat steamed with maybe a touch of butter. Dishes in general require very little seasoning due to their nearly overwhelming natural flavours. No, the stuff we’re used to eating in packages isn’t what food is supposed to taste like—it’s a “good enough” approximation of a home-cooked meal. Somewhere along the line, though, we forgot what scratch-cooked food was actually like and accepted the food corporations’ assertions that what they were giving us was the real deal—besides, it was faster and even if it wasn’t excellent it was still, well, good enough. But the thing you have to prepare yourself for is that once you start eating local food, “good enough” isn’t good enough. You may keep eating it, but you’ll likely come to view it as filler in between the meals made with organic veggies and meat.

And what if you’re in a position where you don’t have access to a farmer’s market or its equivalent? The 100 Mile Diet also has buckets of inspiration to go around. Thanks to the non-preachy, non-guilt laden approach, you may find yourself inclined to do some gardening by the time you’re done… or bee-keeping… or cheese-making… or salt-distilling… or, for that matter, any combination of the above. None of these are impossible, and not all of them are necessarily very hard. We (as a culture) had most of the skills it takes to do those things up until 100 years ago or so—we’ve just forgotten them in the meantime. Smith and McKinnon have written a book encouraging us to reacquire them, and I’d encourage you to do the same. Moreover, I encourage you to do it for purely selfish reasons (on your part) but toward an altruistic end. You may or may not contribute to the ultimate salvation of our world by buying local food, but you’ll certainly contribute to the betterment of your diet and palate by doing so. To paraphrase Buckley’s, it tastes awesome and it works.

August 5th, 2009 by Chris Eng

I don’t want children. Ever. Neither does Carla. On either our first or second date, we had a conversation that went something like this:

Chris: Babies?
Carla: No babies.
Chris & Carla: *whew*

There are a variety of reasons for this decision, not the least of which is that I’m pretty sure I’d be a bad dad. I’m not looking for reassurances, here–my dad is a stubborn bastard with periodic rage issues and I can see some of those qualities in myself. Carla and I are also not ready to give up as much of our lives as we’d have to (a couple of decades or so) in order to raise another human being. But the overriding reason not to breed, for me, has always been the fact that there’s too many people on the planet already. I’ve watched the population soar in my lifetime and the thought of bringing yet another person into an already overcrowded world smacks slightly of insanity. I mean, if you all want to have babies, that’s your choice; I understand the biological imperative, but the more children brought into the world, the larger the ecological disservice done to the planet–an argument borne out by this blog entry.

Yes, thank you for sorting your recycling and driving a hybrid car. Now, for your next environmental contribution, please stop making more babies.

August 4th, 2009 by Chris Eng

Picture of Light
Director: Peter Mettler
(Microcinema)
 

Most documentaries have a straightforward mission. They shoot footage of something and intend to present to you the thing’s reality. It’s a visual dissection, stripping mystery from the subject in a clinical manner. Picture of Light is a different type of film. Ostensibly about the aurora borealis, the documentary follows a film crew to Churchill, Manitoba where they attempt to film the Northern Lights. What emerges, though, is a much more enigmatic piece which explores the landscape of the north, the psyches of the people who live there and the lights themselves. Despite the fact that an astronaut is filmed in the space shuttle giving an explanation of the phenomenon, his words still do not fully concretize the footage and the lights playing across the screen appear to owe as much from Inuit folk tales as they do from science. Science’s hold over winter on the tundra seems tenuous at best and as sparks shoot through the air inside a train car the elements willfully defy any attempt at rationalization.

There is certainly breathtaking footage of the aurora contained in Picture of Light, but almost more notable are the snapshots of humanity not often seen—of people living on the edge of civilization (the edge of the world, as they put it). People who develop a symbiotic relationship with their dogteam (without one, the other will die), and people who will put a bullet through their exterior wall to watch snow seep in through the knothole and develop in drifts across the floor, simply to relieve the monotony. And then there are the scenes of the frigid snow, the endless cold, the trackless waste, impermeable and unstoppable, majestic and terrible in its own right, possessed of its own very real and unpredictable personality.

Picture of Light is a singular film, haunting and evocative, not explicit in any regard. It shows you what the landscape has to offer, then leaves you to your own conclusions. Perhaps it’s best to accept its offering without putting too much weight of explanation on it, perhaps its best to appreciate the north for what it is without trying to unravel its mysteries.

July 30th, 2009 by Chris Eng

While I was out GMing my campaign of Call of Cthulhu last night, Carla took an hour and picked a big ol’ tub of fat blackberries, which were immediately frozen and told to wait for the day (soon, blackberries, soon) when they will be turned into delicious smoothies. Lest you think Carla’s evening was more productive than mine, however, it should be noted I nearly killed two of the party members and left the entire group wondering whether or not they’d started a race riot in 1920s Harlem. So, you know, we were both productive.

Also, FYI, apparently yesterday was the hottest day in Vancouver OF EVAR. 33.8°C. Plus the humidity. Yeah, sweat-tastic. Glad I live in a basement suite.

July 29th, 2009 by Chris Eng

Well, I had a lovely if not entirely inexpensive weekend. But it was good. And super-touristy. It’s funny growing up in a tourist town, because as a teenager you instinctively disdain doing touristy things. Then you move away and get married to a girl not from your town and you go home in the middle of summer and she’s like “What’s fun to do?” and you’re all, “Weeeeellllll…” So let me tell you what we did:

DAY ONE:
- Took the ferry over to Victoria first thing Sunday morning.
- Had brunch with Carla, my parents and aunt and uncle at The Superior, an appropriately named Victorian brunch spot (both for the quality of food, and for the fact that it’s found on Superior St.).
- Walked around downtown, and went to the Chinatown Market (where they close off a block of Government St. on Sunday afternoons and local merchants and artisans sell their wares). Carla found a nice blue summer dress (c/o Lotus Designs), I bought some tea (at Silk Road) and then we wandered off to find Carla a belt to accessorize her new outfit with…
- Which we did at Value Village! And I found a signed copy of Wil Wheaton’s The Happiest Days of Our Lives there, which more or less made my day.
- Then we wandered back to Fisherman’s Wharf (known for that afternoon as Fisherman Worf—“I throw this salmon back! It has no honour!”), ate ice cream and looked at houseboats.
- After that we caught the bus to Masha’s house where we drank cider (purchased at the store) and somethink like kefir, but made with water instead of milk. It was slightly effervescent and refreshing. Then we made homemade pizza. Then we passed out.

DAY TWO:
- Went downtown and did some shopping at Plenty, which has moved up into my Top 5 Places to Spend Money in the Garden City. They call themselves an epicurean pantry and that’s about as good a descriptor as you’re going to get. Their chocolate goodies are to die for. We bought a buttload of brownies to nibble on for the remainder of our trip. Also… A CAST IRON MORTAR AND PESTLE! It’s hyoooje! And while it wasn’t cheap, it was one of those times where you figure you’ve got a little extra money and when are you going to invest in such a thing otherwise? A good investment, though, and it makes me happy.
- Scampered down to Pag’s to meet Shawn for lunch, which was lovely. Carla and I both decided that the 1/2 pasta and salad is the perfect amount of food for a hot day with a bunch of walking around.
- Ventured to the Royal BC Museum for their ‘Treasures of the British Museum’ exhibit. It was a excellently curated exhibition and we only occasionally made comments like, (assume horrible, faux British accent) “I say, what have those brown people got over there? Well, they’re only going to ruin it! Here, let’s get it away from them and put it on our trousseau where it can be seriously appreciated.” Then we spent a couple of hours in the rest of the museum. I could easily spend an afternoon a week for the rest of my life wandering the regular collections of the museum and never get bored. I <3 the RBCM so much.
- After wearing a hole in the bottoms of our shoes from all the walking, we walked even further down to the Beacon Drive In, where sugary and fried delights were partaken of. Then to Beacon Hill Park itself where Carla was shown the many, many peacocks that she did not believe wandered freely about the park. “How…? But…! Whaaaaaa…?!” It was cute. Then we napped on the grass behind St. Ann’s Academy.
- When we came to again we wandered over to the IMAX theatre (conveniently located about two blocks from St. Ann’s inside the RBCM) and watched Star Trek on the REALLY big screen in the company of awesome friends.
- Following that we retired to Masha and Bryce’s house and drank beer and whiled away the hours with them, Will and Kyla. Then slept, probably at too late an hour.

DAY THREE:
- Up before seven, so we could catch a cab into town, grab a coffee and get on the train to Nanaimo! It cost only $21/person since we bought the tickets a day in advance! How is it I never managed to do this at any point in my life? Still, despite the fact that we were both bone tired we managed to stay awake for most of the train ride, which was enchanting and a beautiful change from the view on the highway.
- Here are two awesome places I discovered in Nanaimo:
1) Bygone Books: Amazing selection. I forced myself to leave after spending an hour there but still managed to come up with $75 worth of goodies. Both antiquarian and general purpose books, as well as a huge selection of nautical and local history material. Recommended for Island book nerds.
2) Mon Petit Choux Bakery: They use all natural and organic ingredients. Their sandwiches are delicious and their lavender dark chocolate tarts? That shit is off the hook. Seriously.
- The ferry ride back was pretty painless, which is about all I could ask for.

And now that I’ve run down three days’ worth of fun AT LENGTH, let me now tell you what I did not do:

- Take pictures. This was not done out of any particular hatred of photography as much as forgetting to bring the camera along with us or being slightly tipsy and not caring where the camera was. I know this is a blog and without pictures it didn’t happen, but you’re just gonna have to take my word for it that most of this occurred.

Since I’m home and have the camera now, though, I will post pictures of what Carla and I came home to, thanks to our crafty and clever friends Jackie and Liz:

Nothing like a little bit of craftiness on the part of your friends to really make you realize how good it is to come home. But it was a good trip with good friends all ’round.

July 24th, 2009 by Chris Eng

And following hot on the heels of my little rant on IKEA a couple of days back were two news stories about the box chain on The Consumerist:

- The first details how a breastfeeding woman in Brooklyn was forced to take her shame (and baby) into the washroom and think about what she’d done (or until she was done feeding her baby, whichever came first), despite state laws that say she doesn’t have to do that. Oh, then the security guards gave her a metaphorical kick in the ass on the way out, just–I guess–in case she was thinking about coming back in the future.
- The second (and this is the one that kills me) is on a report in the latest issue of The Atlantic which names IKEA as “the least sustainable retailer on the planet”. Literally a good 75% of my household furniture comes from IKEA. Excuse me a minute while I throw up a little in my mouth.

July 22nd, 2009 by Chris Eng

I love IKEA. Love it. And putting aside any discussion of my relationship to big box shopping for another day (which I do intend to explore in-depth in the future), I have always appreciated IKEA’s general attitude, as well as their meatballs.

It’s tradition for my wife and I (as well as all our friends) to scarf down some Swedish meatballs every time we make the trip out to the suburbs and yesterday was no exception. However, instead of being presented with the standard ceramic plate/steel cutlery/glassware combination, this time we got paper plates, plastic forks and paper cups.

Now, it was Carla who brought up the fact that IKEA’s reason for using actual, washable dishes is because they’re trying to project a more bistro-like atmosphere as opposed to any environmental imperative, and I understand that in a slipping economy every dollar counts and paying full-time dishwashing staff isn’t the cheapest thing in the world, but there’s a cost for the disposable supplies, and part of the cost is my peace of mind. Switching over to disposable dishes will put a massive amount of refuse into our landfills. I’m not going to say it’s more than McDonald’s or any of the other fast food chains out there, but they’ve been using throw-away wrappers all along. It’s not great that we’ve become inured to that particular wastefulness, but it’s certainly what we expect from them. IKEA, on the other hand, felt like more of a haven away from that. Their furniture, while cheap, is kind of classy (well, more classy than any of the other furniture warehouses, if not necessarily better-constructed) and it felt like their cafeteria was striving for that, too—it’s not fantastic food, but it’s cheap and it’s respectable. And I’ve got to say that a lot of that respectability just flew out the window for me.

I mean, the meatballs are good, don’t get me wrong—but if you’re going to dollop a bunch of guilt on top of them next to the lingonberry sauce and I’m going to have to worry about what I’m doing to the environment before I go and buy my cheap picture frames and DVD storage boxes, well, I’ll buy the meatballs frozen and take them home to cook. At least I know in my house they’ve got a part-time dishwasher. His name is Chris Eng, which I understand is half-Chinese for ‘common sense’.

July 21st, 2009 by Chris Eng

Now, I am all for high-quality items that’ll last me the rest of my life, but there’s certain things I draw the line at. Like, say, $450 axes.

Oh, I’m sure they’re good axes. They might even be fantastic axes. And they’re definitely fantastic looking axes. But I’m not going to pay what works out to over $300 for a paint job, just ’cause it was conceived by the fellow who did design work for Brian Eno and Philip Glass… no matter how cool that is.

However, should you be in the market for a $300 axe and have a thing for the guy who helped cement Isaac Mizrahi’s corporate identity, you should talk to the Best Made Company–they’ve got a wood-chopper with your name on it. Well, I mean, not literally–that would probably cost in excess of $500.

July 19th, 2009 by Chris Eng

Went on a hike around Buntzen Lake a week and half ago, or so. Know this streak of incredible warmth and sun we’ve been having recently? Take a guess as to what the weather was like when we decided to go. No, you don’t have to guess; I’ll show you:

Yes. It was wet that day. Or rather, it got wet when we were about halfway along. I know I look unhappy, but after an hour’s forced march through a torrential downpour, yeah, I was a little tetchy. Stella wasn’t that thrilled either and she’s one happy-go-lucky dog. What this hike proves, I think, beyond a shadow of a doubt, is that even in the middle of summer we live in a temperate rainforest.

Other things I have learned from this hike:

1) Stella is a good dog and I will walk her any time. I knew she was a good dog before we left, but she proved it several times over the course of that day.
2) Always have a spare shirt waiting in the car. Hey, if it’s extra sunny you might need it ’cause you’re sweaty. And if it’s rainy…
3) Have a towel in the car, too.
4) Waterproof shells (especially ones that collapse down to a fraction of their size and which you can shove easily in your bag) are invaluable.
5) The mini-suspension bridge on the far side of the lake is good times.
6) Not many people walk on the smaller, off-shoot trails. This makes the smaller trails more relaxing. On the other hand, there are also large hills involved. There’s a trade-off involved.

Overall, though, I’m looking forward to going back on a day when I don’t have to carry an extra few pounds of water around in my clothes. Pretty trails; good hike.