A few ideas on how to avoid food waste from grist.org
A hungry traveller arrives in a village, and asks the people there if they have any food to share. They all say no. It is an all too common a story.
This particular traveller, however, does not leave the village defeated and hungry. He does not go on to die by the side of the road – though countless others in his situation certainly have. Instead, he fills a pot with water, pulls a stone out of his travel bag and drops it in, and places the pot on the fire.
One by one, the villagers come to him, and ask him what he is doing. He explains that this is a soup stone, and that he making stone soup, which he would be happy to share – and which would be even better with the addition of some small ingredient.
The villagers, who not so long ago claimed to have nothing, each add a little something to the stone broth, eventually creating a feast together – one which they share.
In case you never heard it before, the above is a boiled down version of the story of stone soup. I can still remember the first time my mother read it to me. Something about it moved me. The traveller was cunning, and the moral of the story resonated – but more significantly, I was amazed that that’s all there was to soup. I quizzed my mother to make sure I understood properly – that all you had to do to make soup was boil stuff. I was three or four years old, and am quite sure I’d never thought about where soup came from before. Soup, to me, was a rich flavored liquid, origins unknown, that warmed and satisfied on a cold day. And all you had to do to make it was boil stuff. That felt like magic to me.
All these years later, the ability to extract the essence of foods, and to combine them into complex, layered flavors still feels like magic. For years, I started with whole vegetables and chickens, but have had better results lately using food that used to go straight into the compost or garbage.
What I do is this: whenever I peel or chop vegetables or meats, I toss any bits that would usually be destined for the compost or garbage bin into a colander, wash them, then put them in a container in the freezer. When I want to make stock, I throw the stone-like frozen scraps into water and boil. I made the last batch with corn cobs, chicken wing tips, carrot greens, onion skins, celery and carrots ends, carrot peels and some cauliflower leaves and carrot tops that didn’t make it onto the menu a few weeks ago. It was complex with a hint of sweetness – and, in the spirit of stone soup, it was a broth made in what some would perceive as the absence of food.
I used three cups “stone soup” broth to make one of my favorite soups – a spicy beer and cheddar soup. The final product really benefitted from the multitude of flavors in the broth, particularly the distinctive flavor of corn imparted by the corn cobs.
Spicy beer & cheddar soup (serves 4)
Directions
Well, I’m back in LA, and back in the kitchen. After a few weeks of great Indian, Malay, and Chinese food, I’ve been in the mood to play with an entirely different set of flavors. My most recent experiment was with falafel – and my one break with tradition was to use carrot greens rather than parsley. I only gave the ingredients a couple of quick pulses in the food processor, which made for a more interesting texture than you get with falafel mix – and of course the flavors were much fresher.
Carrot green falafel (serves 3)
Chop the red onion, greens, serrano pepper and garlic coarsely. Put the chopped ingredients in a food processor with the chickpeas, and give them a few quick pulses. You should end up with a coarse mixture, and be able to make out specks of green, beige and red.
Put the mixture in a bowl, and add the baking powder, flour, cumin and salt. Mix all the ingredients evenly using your hands (because it’s more fun), and form the resulting paste into (about) nine small patties.
Fill a deep skillet with about one eighth of an inch of oil, and place the skillet over medium heat. Toss a small speck of falafel mixture into the oil; when bubbles start to form around it, the oil is ready.
Fry the falafel patties for about two minutes on each side, until they are golden brown. I served mine with flat bread, tomatoes and tahini sauce (a quick mix of tahini paste, lemon juice, olive oil, salt, chopped carrot greens and garlic – everything to taste).
| Carrot greens per serving | 4 tsp |
| Carrot greens we could save from landfill if every one of the roughly 1.2 billion people in developed regions had one servicing of carrot green falafel | about 24,000 cubic meters |
| Approximate volume of the great pyramid of Giza | 2,500,000 cubic meters |
| The amount of time it would take to save that volume of carrot greens from landfill if everyone in developed nations ate carrot green falafel twice a month | 4 years and 4 months |
There are few things I like more than a good Indian meal, and one of my favorite curries is saag. When you get it in North America, it’s usually made with spinach, but it can be made with any green or mix of greens – and it’s a great way to use edible greens that typically end up in the bin, like those of sweet potatoes, radishes, carrots, beets and broccoli.
I made a small batch with carrot greens the other night, which I served with roasted carrots and red peppers, tandoori chicken, watermelon rind chutney and turmeric rice – a meal just overflowing with complex spices and aromas.
Carrot green saag (two small servings)
| Edible greens rescued from landfill per serving | 1.25 oz |
| Number of servings needed to save 1 pound of edible greens from landfill | 12.8 |
| Cost of 1 pound of edible greens which would usually be tossed | $0.00 |
| Cost of spinach at yummy.com as of 1 minute ago | $3.99 for 5 oz |
| Amount you can save by replacing 1 pound of baby spinach with free edible greens (assuming you shop at yummy.com) | $12.77 |
| Net impact on landfill if everyone in the US eats 1 pound of greens that would usually be tossed | 155,000 short ton reduction |
| Total cost of that 155,000 short tons of green goodness | $0.00 |
In Japan, celery is not cheap. It’s not sold in bunches; it’s sold by the stalk – and a stalk costs about a dollar.
Really the real thing
Strangely enough, I miss that.
I don’t miss the price so much (though it did have the virtue of discouraging waste), but I do miss being able to buy just what I need. Maybe it’s my imagination, but bunches of celery seem much bigger than they were 15 years ago – and buying that much celery makes me uncomfortable. I wonder if I’ll be able to use it all before it shrivels up and becomes unusable. When you’ve thought in terms of individual stalks for so long, the thought of half a bunch of celery in the bin feels … well … just a little bit obscene.
So, since I’ve moved to the US, I’ve spent some time experimenting with things I can do with celery that has lost its crunch (besides throwing it out). One of the easiest is to toss it in a blender with some water, a bit of sugar or honey, and something to add a little extra flavor, like lime, ginger or vanilla. It’s better tasting than a soft drink, better for you, and better for the planet – and if you miss the fizz, you can always get a soda maker.
The recipe for the version I made yesterday (which was pretty tasty) follows.
Celery-ginger limeade (2 servings)
| Celery per serving | 3 stalks |
| Length of celery per 12 oz serving, if stalks laid end to end | about 99 inches |
| Average distance from the Earth to the moon | 238,855 miles |
| Number of 12 oz servings it would take to use up the amount of celery which, if laid end to end, would span the average distance from the Earth to the moon | 152,867,200 |
| Amount of celery-ginger limeade every American would have to drink to save that amount of celery from landfill | 5.8 oz – ½ of a 12 oz serving |
| Average annual consumption of soft drinks per person in the US | 57 gallons – 608 12 oz servings |
I recently read Spree’s blog post about “pint-size” spinach soufflés, and it got me thinking. I’d gotten out of the habit of making soufflés in Japan (where the typical gas oven is roughly three inches tall), but they’re a perfect way to use all sorts of vegetables, not to mention cheeses and herbs. I got more beets this week, so decided to try my hand at making beet green soufflé.
Beet green soufflé, sans souffle
The results are in the photo to the right, and tasted pretty darn good – though my soufflé lacked a little souffle. I think I need to get my soufflé skills back up to speed before I share any recipes, but for now just wanted to share the idea with those of you whose skills are already there. This is one classic dish that you can play with, and use to make the least sexy of ingredients taste great, and (my recent experiment notwithstanding) look like something worthy of a five-star restaurant.
I served the beet green soufflé with carrots in a lemon dill vinaigrette, and froze the peelings and ends for the next time I make stock — one of the many great tips that Zo shared in her blog entry, Save our skins – deliciously and easily.
| Weight of beet greens rescued from landfill per serving | 1 ounce |
| Reduction in food waste if every person in the developed world saves just 1 ounce of beet greens from landfill | About 31,250 short tons |
| Weight of the average sperm whale bull | 45 short tons |
| Number of average sperm whale bulls needed to balance 31,250 short tons of beet greens | About 695 |
As one commenter pointed out, today is 2/22 (thanks, Mami), which cries to be a special day on this tiny sliver of the web. Maybe when the 222 million tons Facebook “likes” swell to numbers well beyond the current 11, I’ll have the clout to lobby for February 22 to become International Save Something from Landfill Day. Until then, I’ll just have to try making a small dent in the problem by sharing observations like this one: beet leaves and stems are tasty.
They’re often overlooked for the same reason that watermelon rind is; they live next to a real attention grabber – in this case beets. But beet leaves are tender and flavorful, and their stems are red, crisp, and have just a hint of beet flavor. Unlike beets, they don’t overwhelm, but they do add color and character to salads and other dishes.
Our most recent experiment with beets greens was a linguine with beet greens, which was good enough to share here.
Linguine with beet greens (serves 1)
| Reduction in food waste per serving | 10 ounces |
| Reduction in food waste if every person in the developed world saves just 10 ounces of beet greens from landfill | About 312,500 short tons |
| Weight of pig iron structure of the Eiffel Tower | About 8,000 short tons |
Watermelons are large.
Maybe that doesn’t rank as the deepest insight anyone’s ever had about food – but hey, I’m new at this whole food blogging thing.
And as much as we like watermelon, getting through a whole one before it starts to get a little dry-looking and unappealing is more than the two of us can do. Of course, throwing it away is not an option – nor is feeding it to the worms. It’s human food.
So, after we’d had our fill of watermelon last week, I decided to make some watermelon-yuzu juice. A bit of that ended up in cocktails; and the rest, as granita.
In case you’ve never tried it, yuzu is a Japanese citrus fruit. It is distinctive, aromatic, and adds a bright note to everything it touches – and in Japan, it touches a lot:
It’s one of the flavors that we miss most from Japan, hence the little yuzu tree on the balcony (the source of the yuzu juice in this recipe) – and, I can’t recommend the ingredient enough. Just one tablespoon of yuzu juice completely changed the flavor of the cocktails and the granita, giving them a refreshing acidity and a little taste of Japan.
Watermelon-yuzu cocktail and granita
Something to sip on while making granita
The watermelon that was threatening to go bad will now keep for several weeks, and makes a light, refreshing dessert.
Watermelon rind has it tough. It lives next to sweet, pink, refreshing fruit that can be eaten as is, or easily become the base of colorful drinks, salsas, granitas and soups. How many of us even acknowledge rind as food? How many of us stop eating when we reach the unsexy, white, flavorless stuff? How many rinds end their lives needlessly in landfill?
Too many to contemplate.
But watermelon rind is food too, and there’s no reason to throw it away, or even compost anything but the hard, dark green skin (less than a millimeter thick). Although the rind is not as flavorful as the rest of the fruit, it is slightly sweet and has a firm, crisp texture that holds up well to cooking. It can be incorporated into the aforementioned drinks, salsas, granitas and soups — but also does well on it’s own in both sweet and savory concoctions.
Take that, sexy, pink, attention-grabbing watermelon flesh
I’ve been in the mood for Indian food lately, so when I found myself with 10 cups of watermelon rind earlier this week (harvested from a 7 pound watermelon), I decided to use it to make chutney. The recipe is below, and the result is a spicy, sweet, sour, aromatic condiment that makes a perfect accompaniment to Indian food, meat dishes or strong cheeses.
Watermelon Rind Chutney
Cubed watermelon rind
This chutney will stay fresh for several months in the refrigerator.
| Reduction in food waste per batch of chutney | 10 cups |
| … and if every household in the US makes 1 batch | Over 9.6 million cubic feet |
| Volume of the Washington Monument | About 1 million cubic feet |
Last April, I bought some carrots.
I had just moved to the United States, and unlike the thick, woody carrots at our local market in Japan, these were small, organic, and topped with lush greens. They smelled earthy and fresh, and in the tradition of millions of grocery unpackers before me, I twisted the greens off to keep the carrots fresh longer. I was about to throw those greens away when a question stayed my hand:
Are carrot greens food?
Moving to California (a land of cheap, fresh food sold in massive quantities) had made Bonnie Lee and I keenly aware of how easy it would be to waste food here — something we were determined to avoid — and a quick search on the Internet told me that carrot greens are one of the many foods most people feed to the bin rather than to themselves. It’s a shame. Although they lack many of their bright orange roots’ charms, carrot greens have a distinctive bitterness that can add an unexpected accent to a meal, and which balances nicely with other strong flavours.
The first bunch of carrot greens I rescued ended up in some chicken soup stock — and that’s the way I use them most often. They add a layer of complexity to stock, and a healthy greenish tinge, though you still end up with solid waste when you use them that way.
My latest experiment with carrot greens was the Purée of the Whole Danged Carrot Soup (recipe below) that I made for lunch yesterday. I balanced the bitterness of the carrot greens with a good dose of white pepper, and some cider vinegar and honey. I decided not to blend the soup completely, so that little specks of green and orange would still be visible. That gave the soup a bit of crunch and freshness that I liked, but I can see some folks being put off by the texture. For a smoother version, I would suggest throwing a couple of ounces of cooked potato into the mix, and blending the soup more throughly.
Carrot greens also make a good addition to salads, and there are a few recipes for carrot green pesto out there (though I’ve yet to try those). Feel free to share any carrot green recipes, or improvements to my recipe, in the comments.
Purée of the Whole Danged Carrot Soup (1 serving)
Carrot greens are food too
| Per serving | about 1 oz (the weight of the greens, assuming you would have eaten the carrots anyway) |
| If you eat this once a week | 3¼ pounds per year |
| If everyone in the US eats this meal once | over 9,500 short tons |
| If everyone in the US eats this meal once a week | close to 500,000 short tons per year |
222 million tons 