Archive for the ‘T-Town’ Category

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My goodness, how time flies.

I know I’ve shown you pretty much nothing this summer except globe-trotting photo posts, but today I’ve got to stick to tradition. As of this moment, I’ve been a Tacoman for exactly two years. Twenty-four months. Seven hundred thirty days. Seventeen thousand five hundred twenty hours.

And counting.

I’m hoping for several million more, because I’ve loved every one—thanks to you T-town folks. Guys, you’re awesome. And generous, to boot—I think I had a stroke or something when I picked up my copy of this week’s Volcano and found my name printed next to “Best Visual Artist.” Holy moley. Thank you for the vote of confidence—you’re inspiring me to git to work!

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Speaking of work, which I’m not quite ready to show you yet, evidence of the past two years has been on the front burner lately. Since I first came up with the concept for my Mt. Rainier book, I’ve covered a lot of miles in our fair state—and even a few down south in Oregon. And above all else (well, except maybe Pt. Defiance, my two favorite markets, or Top Pot), what I love about the Pacific Northwest are the contrasts. From oceans to mountains, rain forests to deserts, farm fields to bustling cities—it’s hard sometimes to remember that all of this is close to home.

So before I get back to a little picture-drawin’ next week, I’ve compiled a smattering of photos taken since my last anniversary post to illustrate what I’m talking about.

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In two years I’ve amassed nearly thirty thousand digital photos of the Northwest—and that’s just of the relatively small hunk of territory I’ve managed to cover in that time.

Here’s to the next thirty thousand photos, and the next seventeen thousand five hundred twenty hours—I wonder what they’ll bring.

Please ’scuse the absense. The Tailor and I have been in and out of town lately (mostly in the woods, far away from computers and civilization), and I’m still going through the mountain of photographs. Travel details this week, pinky swear. In the meantime, today felt like a whole vacation all by itself—just plain old good for the soul.

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This is Carol, a fiery Sicilian kindred spirit and one of my favorite-est people on the planet. She and her fabulous husband, Jeff, hosted a Fourth of July shindig in their garden today, threats of rain be darned.

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There was a little music,

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a healthy dose of croquet,

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(heaven help you if you hit the ball into the fig/rhododendron tangle, or launch it over the wall and down to 30th Street far below)

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a whole lot of laughter,

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and a walloping smörgåsbord that included plenty beyond your typical Fourth o’ July fare. Hey, hummus goes great with stars-and-stripes cake!

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We contributed our ice cream crank, plenty of mashed strawberries, and our upper body strength.

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I’m glad there were plenty of people to share the job of cranking, because I like to cut to the chase.

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Namely, this. My favorite part is when everybody grabs a spoon and helps clean off the dash,

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though I’m sure the novelty alone was the highlight for some. Sure, it was a little cold for ice cream (we’re not exactly known for hot summers here, but this year we’ve been sporting March temperatures for months), but everyone just threw on another clothing layer before digging in.

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After we had all eaten ourselves silly, everyone gathered on Carol and Jeff’s porch, which faces the Sound and provides a front-row seat—

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first for the warm-up act,

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and then for the main event.

And judging by the snap-crackle-popping still echoing through the neighborhood, I’d say the party ain’t over yet.

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Happy Independence Day!

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Since the last few days have been a little…uh…busy, I didn’t get around to flipping to this month’s page in my Charley Harper calendar until this weekend. When I did, I just had to laugh. Mr. Harper must have known I’d have these particular critters on the brain this month. How apropos.

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I had another bit of Harper synchronicity when I stumbled across this long-coveted book at the U-Dub Bookstore in Seattle on Saturday (and of course had to bring it home with me).

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Since the weather was too lovely that day to pass up, I decided to take my patented, impossibly labyrinthine Back Way to get there. It adds an extra half hour onto the drive, but there’s no traffic, and the view is spectacular.

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Case in point.

I stopped and got out at an overlook at Browns Point to snap this photo and grok the view—until a weird sound distracted me from the scenery. It sounded like something rusty and mechanical was working back and forth, like an old-fashioned water pump. Hoik! Hoik! Hoik!

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It was hard to tell, what with the echoes ricocheting everywhere, but it sounded like it was coming from a scrap barge directly below. (If you’re wondering, those are hundreds and hundreds of crushed cars on that barge.) Hoik! (hoik) Hoik! (hoik) Hoik! (hoik)

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And then I caught sight of them: sea lions. Barking their little heads off. Hoik! Hoik! Hoik! And it was loud! Even though I was 200 feet above them, the echoes amplified their voices into an impressive din.

I don’t know about you, but that made my day. Just thought I’d share.

If you don’t know what a bunch of jabbering sea lions sounds like, or you want the other members of your household to wonder what’s making that unholy racket come out of your computer, you can browse YouTube’s fine selection of videos. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

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Poster designed and printed by the amazing Ric Matthies

I meant to post this last night, but it was all I could do just to get to bed, and not fall asleep on the floor, buried under all the receipts and mailers.

So as of last night, twenty-four hours after posting Drill, Baby, Drill online, we are down to eleven numbered copies. Eleven! And I haven’t even finished hailing all the subscribers yet (don’t worry, subscribers, your copies are safe!). I am just completely floored. I think the response you folks have given us may have burned a hole through my computer screen.

To give a few more local folks a chance at ‘em, I’m going to set aside five of those last eleven, and bring them with me on Sunday to the next Tacoma is for Lovers craft fair. No reservations for these five, no snagging them before Sunday; just first-come, first-served. So come say hello at my table—you’ll recognize me, because I’ll be the one who looks a little punchy after all these orders!

Tacoma is for Lovers! (no disrespect to Virginia)
Sunday, June 13, 2010
11 a.m. to 4 p.m., free!
King’s Books
218 St. Helens Ave., T-town

As for the rest (and any unsold after Sunday), I’ll post them one at a time on Etsy, unless somebody orders by email first.

Thank you to everybody who had to put up with my dropping the ball when it came to updating the quantities on Etsy. I wandered away from the computer a couple of times—once for this, on our garage:

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and once more for this:

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So thanks for being patient and flexible—we’re all straightened out now.

Now, to all of you: I simply can’t find the words to express my thanks. Your emails poured in; you called to congratulate us; you posted comments; you told your friends; you spread the word like wildfire on Twitter and Facebook; you shared your stories. You have continued to show your unflagging support for a gal trying to make a living by drawing pictures. And you have reminded me that on the whole people are good, and that we want to come together to heal the damage in the Gulf—and to come up with a better solution for everyone. That brought me to tears all over again—this time, the kind that come with a smile.

I’m off to send our donation to Oceana. With everything I have, thank you all. I can only hope my drawings can be worthy of your hearts.

Update: we are now completely SOLD OUT. Thanks, everyone!

volcano_glassmuseum_5795I’ve had volcanoes on the brain for nearly two years. Littering my studio are volumes of sketches, nearly 6,000 photographs, reference books, stacks of maps, and a brand new, functional prototype of the artist book about Mt. Rainier I’m working on—all evidence of my attempts at capturing a series of fleeting moments and freezing them in time and on paper (Rainier is hiding there in the clouds, at the bottom of the above photo).

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Photo by the U.S. Geological Survey

And then there’s the little corked bottle of volcanic ash on my desk, inscribed with the date of the last major eruption of Mount St. Helens: exactly thirty years ago today.

I’ve been staring at that bottle on and off, all day, reminded of why I’m doing all of this (and why I can’t wait until I have something to show you!).

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This project began as a tribute to Hokusai, the Japanese printmaker and illustrator who created his famous Views of Mount Fuji (36 views in the first set and 100 views in the second) woodblock series over 150 years ago.

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Hokusai wanted to demonstrate the unchanging immortality of Fuji amidst the transient nature of everyday life. To him, Fuji was forever, an unshakable icon of Japan and one of the foundations of his culture.

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The trouble is, Fuji is a volcano—just like Rainier and St. Helens—that by its very nature is constantly changing right along with the lives being lived in its shadow. That knowledge is where I found the root of my own project, and since then I’ve tried to document the fire mountain in my own back yard—to be there for every change and permutation.

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Today’s date lit a bit of a fire under me, and prompted me to get on with the business of finishing this artist book. Because one day this is all going to happen again. Mount Saint Helens will be first, I’d wager; being the most active and youngest volcano in the Cascades, it may only be a matter of a few years. And some day, even if it’s a hundred or a thousand years from now, Rainier is going to have its turn, too.

For now, though, I’m just doing my best to pay attention to the present moment, because one day I may need help remembering how things used to be.

I think it’s time to get that new wok I’ve been meaning to buy, because I have a feeling it’s going to get a lot of use. The cookbook I illustrated is now available, and I can’t wait to give it a whirl.

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Tacoma Community House has been serving Tacoma’s immigrant community for decades, offering an enormous range of educational and social services to its clients—including language translation and interpretation, job training, citizenship assistance, and employment programs. The diversity of clients is astounding—in the last year alone, TCH served clients from fifty-four countries. To bring their clients together and welcome them to the community, TCH has a tradition of holding potluck dinners. As a result, they’ve compiled an impressive collection of international recipes over the years. In honor of their 100th anniversary this year (can you believe that?), TCH has compiled a collection of their favorites into a cookbook: ¡Entrée!

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I have a feeling they had quite a job of editing; ¡Entrée! contains over 140 recipes from five world regions.

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Dishes represented here include empanadas, tabouli, spring rolls, moussaka, samosas, gazpacho, cottage pie, a wide range of curries, and even American Indian fry bread.

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To bring all these recipes together into a cohesive theme, all the illustrations focused on hands—which came in handy for the step-by-step instructions.

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(Hence all the hand-modeling by Zooey.)

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Each recipe is as authentic as it gets—instead of being filtered through some chef or ethnic restaurant, these dishes come directly from the family traditions of TCH’s clients. They even passed the Tailor test (and he has high standards!)—no processed ingredients, no store-bought shortcuts, no mention of canned cream-of-mushroom soup. He even gave the English plum pudding recipe (which is one of his specialties) his stamp of approval.

I think I’ll be trying this one first:

Arroz Mexicano (Mexican Rice)

1/2 cup tomato sauce
1/2 cup water
2 green onions, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1/4 tsp salt
2 Tbsp lard or cooking oil
1 cup long grain rice

Tip: It’s important in Mexican rice to fry the rice before you add the liquids. It will make a difference in the texure and taste.

1. Mix tomato sauce and water together; add green onions, garlic and salt to the tomato sauce.

2. Heat lard or oil in a sauce pan on medium-high heat; add the rice and cook till slightly brown.

3. Add tomato sauce mixture and lower the heat; add more water of the mixture does not cover the rice. Cover and let simmer for about 20 minutes or until liquid is gone from the pan.

4. Lard is used by many Mexican families for cooking instead of cooking oils.

Oh, and about the lard: heck, yes. If you’ve ever tried refried beans at an authentic Mexican restaurant, the lard is what makes it taste so good. Don’t be afraid—a little lard won’t kill you. Go ahead and try it! Learn it, love it, lard it.

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I loved working with TCH (and with Hana Kato, their talented designer, who treated my illustrations with such care), but even better was seeing ¡Entrée! on a bookstore shelf. You can find a copy in town at King’s Books, or you can try more sample recipes and order online here.

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Inked up,

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hand-pulled,

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and voilà! Our second collaborative steamroller print, an unofficial Dead Feminist, inspired by Cora Smith Eaton King, who in 1909 climbed Mt. Rainier with a party of Mountaineers and placed a “Votes for Women” banner at the summit.

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This year’s Wayzgoose was the biggest bash yet! Outside we had all the regulars, like the steamroller sorcery of Chris Sharp,

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Ric Matthies and his seriously-amazing perfection under pressure (no pun intended),

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Jessica Spring, my partner in crime,

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and the gifted-as-ever Stadium High School printmaking students.

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Inside, folks were printing their own copy of the excellent new Beautiful Angle poster,

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and many other talented book artist and printers (like Lisa Hasegawa here) were showing their stuff.

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The whole shindig had a befezzed flavor, thanks to C.L.A.W. and the inimitable R.R. Anderson,

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and the Dockyard Derby Dames rounded out a whole host of newcomers.

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We had an enormous crowd (thank goodness for the good weather!),

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and even a few unexpected audience members.

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This year I got to try my hand at driving the steamroller,

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but I think pretending was plenty enough for this little guy.

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Thanks to everybody who stopped by to say hello, or stuck around to lend a helping hand.

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And of course, a huge bucket of gratitude to the Tacoma Arts Commission for making it all happen!

One more acknowledgement: photography by Michael O’Leary. Thanks, Dad!

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Jessica and I are carving like mad this week, getting ready for some quality steamroller time.

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Next Sunday, April 25, is the sixth-annual Wayzgoose at King’s Books, right here in Tacoma. This year promises to be the biggest hullabaloo yet, with letterpress magnetic poetry, B.Y.O. t-shirt printing, papermaking demos, artist tables, and the star of the show: steamroller printing! Last year over 500 people came to check it out, despite a torrential downpour—and this year, the weather just might promise to behave, so we’re bracing for a mob. There’s a reason for the crowds: this is a heckuva lot of fun. Here’s the skinny:

6th Annual Wayzgoose!
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Noon to 4 pm
Free!
King’s Books
218 St. Helens Ave., Tacoma
More information and artist roster here

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Eight artists and artist-teams will be printing gigantic three-by-four-foot linocuts in the street, including Jessica and me—we’ll be adding another unofficial Dead Feminist to our roster. (Take a gander at our last steamroller print here.) This is just a sneak peek; stop by next Sunday to see this block in action.

See you there!

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We’re omnivores. I know that many people interested in food ethics and sustainability choose to be vegetarians or vegans; but we made the conscious decision to continue eating dairy, meat and fish. Developing and keeping habits that support our Responsible Meat ethic is the most difficult part of living the way we do, and probably required the most research to get started. Since we moved to the Pacific Northwest, though, this has become a whole lot easier.

Here is the big secret to why we can go six to eight weeks between shopping trips: we get our milk and butter delivered. We buy organic milk from Smith Brothers Farms, located 20 miles away in Kent, WA. Not only is their milk delivered every week, but we don’t pay for delivery! Because their milk is only available by delivery (you can’t get it at a store), we only pay for the milk itself ($3.99 for a half-gallon; comparable or a little less than organic cartons at the store). And we don’t have to drive to the store every week to buy it. That’s a pretty good deal, if you ask me.

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We’re very lucky to have milk delivery available here, and I know it’s not something that exists everywhere. It seems, though, to be making a comeback around the country; a quick Google search turned up milk delivery options in 30 states, and many of them are listed here.

The demand for local, organic, family farm-raised meat seems to be increasing as well. Many farmers markets (including the St. Paul market we patronized when we lived in Minnesota) have meat stalls, and plenty of independent farms have shops on the premises.

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We buy our meat from The Meat Shop of Tacoma, a certified organic farm just a few miles south of town. The Meat Shop is the oldest USDA Certified Organic meat shop in the country, and has been run by the Markholt family since it opened in 1963.

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So as to minimize our trips to the farm, we buy meat every three to four months, and store it in the freezer. This is our most recent haul—yes, that’s a lot of meat on that table, but that’s four months’ worth. We eat on average about 1.5 pounds of meat per person, per week (that’s the pre-cooked weight, including bones, skin, and other inedible stuff; it’s about a pound a week of edible, cooked meat).

When we did the math that seemed like an awful lot, so I tried to compare that to the average American’s meat intake. I tell you what, it sure was hard to find that data—at least from a reliable source. I finally unearthed a spreadsheet from the USDA Economic Research Service website, and it listed the average per-capita consumption of retail (that is, the meat right out of the store—before cooking, boning, skinning, etc.—that’s comparable to what we buy) beef, veal, pork, lamb and chicken in the United States was 198.3 pounds in 2008. That’s 3.8 pounds of meat per person, per week, or just over half a pound a day. It took me several minutes and 5 recalculations to believe that number could possibly be true.

Now I’ll admit: organic happy meat is more expensive than the conventional stuff—sometimes considerably more. But between eating less than the half the amount of meat of the average American, saving the pricier cuts for very rare occasions, and our other shopping habits, our total annual grocery spending comes out just about even. And besides, we like being able to shop directly from the farmer, rather than having half of that money go to the grocery stores in the middle of the chain.

Anyway, nevermind the ethical/environmental/health reasons—the Meat Shop’s nitrate-free ham is hands-down the best dang hunk of meat I have ever tasted. I’m salivating now, just thinking about it.

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Seafood, on the other hand, is a whole different conundrum. I grew up around fish—I even have fishermen and fishmongers in my New England family—so seafood is a must-have for me. Since we live so close to sea water we don’t so much have to worry about the price of fish (it’s cheap!), but the sustainability of seafood is an issue that confronts us daily.

It’s not enough that we shop at a local fish market (that’s Northern Fish above; this is their 98th year that they’ve been owned by the same family, and they’re located just blocks from our house. It doesn’t get any more local than that)—our main concern is avoiding species that are overfished, illegally caught, or unsustainably farmed. The Monterey Bay Aquarium has an excellent consumer guide called Seafood Watch, which analyzes nearly every edible fish species and gives recommendations on which to buy and which to avoid. This unfortunately precludes some of my old preferences (including Unagi, the broiled eel dish I always ordered at Japanese restaurants), but learning more about the alternatives to overfishing have led me to discover new loves.

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My new favorite, and a purchase we make regularly: Dungeness crab. It’s local, it’s been well-managed for over fifty years, and it’s one of the tastiest delights I can think of (even better than my beloved New England lobsta, in my humble opinion).

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Finally, eggs. To be honest, eggs have always been low priority for us. We always bought cage-free, vegetarian-fed, organic eggs at the co-op (as opposed to ones labeled “free-range”—a vague legal term that only means that a door needs to be open somewhere near the chickens, which are far too stupid to figure out how to use it), but it wasn’t until we moved here and found out how chicken-friendly our region is that we considered other options. Now we buy our eggs from a friend who keeps chickens right in his residential Tacoma neighborhood—these girls are served vegetarian feed, and feast on bugs as they wander around his back yard. They’re happy, and since the eggs are so beautiful and tasty, we’re happy, too.

Whew. That’s it. You’ve seen pretty much everything that’s in our cupboard, root cellar, attic, refrigerator and freezer. These posts may only have served to demonstrate just how weird we are, for all I know, but my intention was merely to show that eating sustainably doesn’t have to be expensive, or insanely difficult.

And judging by everything I’ve read and everyone I’ve talked to, maybe it won’t be too long before it isn’t weird at all.

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As I explained last time, filling our shopping cart with vintage Tupperware and thrift-store tins might prove we’re crazy, but there’s at least one element of buying organic food in bulk that’s decidedly sane. My favorite thing about shopping organic, and the absolute best-kept secret of the food co-op world, is the spice section.

Just like the grain, pasta, bean, nut and flour bins, our store (as well as most other co-ops and many natural food stores) has almost every conceivable herb and spice in bulk jars, tidily arranged in alphabetical order.

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The idea is that you bring your own jars (or use the paper or plastic bags provided by the store; we bring old spice jars saved from our old shopping days, or discarded by friends and family), and pay only for the weight of the spice itself—not for packaging or branding. Just like with our other jars and tins, we mark each spice jar with the tare weight and PLU number, and fill ‘er up. This way, we only buy what we want—that’s great for spices we might only use for one recipe.

Reducing our amount of trash is only half of it—the real virtue of bulk spices is the price. To give you a little comparison, I compared the prices of what we bought at the co-op with what’s for sale at a conventional grocery store not far from our house. I’m comparing the co-op prices with non-organic spices at the grocery store, because not only is that what most people buy, but the sticker shock is crazy enough without comparing organic to organic!

Now, while I was researching this post, I discovered that grocery stores (including our co-op) are extremely touchy on the subject of price—carrying a camera with me must have made me seem like a secret shopper or something, because I had to answer to a co-op employee for what I was doing. So to protect their “anonymity,” I’ll just say that the local conventional grocery store has the word “Safe” in its name. Ha. (I have to say, though, that no fewer than twelve different employees there asked me if I was finding everything okay. Either jotting prices down with paper and pen and leaving empty-handed looked suspicious, or they were just very helpful folk.)

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Anyway, here’s a snippet of our most recent co-op receipt. If you look closely at the per-pound price, the spices seem expensive—but look again. We paid $3.42 for 0.29 pounds (just over 4.6 ounces) of organic whole black peppercorns. A 4.25-ounce bottle of McCormick’s conventional (non-organic) peppercorns at the regular grocery store goes for $5.49. So we saved a little bit there, and got an organic product out of the deal.

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Now for the real magic. Peppercorns are relatively heavy, so the price comparison to packaged spices isn’t spectacular—but take a look at some common powdered spices and dried herb leaves, like this organic parsley, priced at $18.69 a pound.

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We paid 37 cents for that parsley—0.02 pounds or 0.32 ounces of it—and that jar is a reused McCormick’s jar (those fancy-branded glass ones). A slightly larger, 0.5-ounce jar of name-brand (i.e McCormick’s) non-organic parsley? $3.49. That’s $111.68 a pound! I don’t know about you, but to me that’s completely nuts. And let’s not forget that some herbs and spices, especially dried parsley, don’t stay fresh for long. We almost never get through our jar of parsley before bugs get in there (and they do, let’s face it). I’d rather have to waste 37 cents’ worth of parsley than three-and-a-half bucks.

How about some other examples? Let’s run down our grocery list.

Co-op: Organic thyme leaf, 0.05 lb (0.8 oz): $0.49, at $16.39/lb
Grocery store: Non-organic: $4.09 for a 0.37 oz bottle, or $176.86/lb

Co-op: Organic rubbed sage, 0.03 lb (0.48 oz): $0.82, at $16.19/lb
Grocery store: Non-organic: $4.59 for a 0.5 oz bottle, or $146.88/lb

Co-op: Organic rosemary, 0.06 lb (0.96 oz): $0.62, at $10.39/lb
Grocery store: Non-organic: $4.79 for a 0.35 oz bottle, or $218.97/lb (!)

Co-op: Organic whole bay leaf, 0.02 lb (0.32 oz): $0.39, at $19.29/lb
Grocery store: Non-organic: $3.39 for a 0.12 oz bottle, or $452.00/lb (!!)

Holy cow. Forget any debates about organic farming—let’s talk about highway robbery.

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You can also buy many baking supplies,

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or hey, even coffee and tea in bulk, if it floats your boat. (Tea will likely save you some money, but the various baking ingredients probably won’t. We buy our coffee and tea elsewhere, so I won’t get into that.)

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And there’s one more juicy secret about the bulk section: liquids.

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Not every co-op has this, but if you can find a place that sells bulk liquids (maple syrup, honey, extracts, vegetable oils, etc.—though I’ve never seen peanut oil in bulk, and I don’t know why that is), you’re golden. Buying maple syrup in bulk will usually save you a huge bundle, compared to those little glass bottles that can go for up to $30 a pint. This time we happened to stock up on vanilla extract (the real thing, not the fake stuff), so I’ll compare that to what the “Safe” grocery store has to offer.

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Co-op: Non-organic (that’s all they have) vanilla extract, 4 oz: $1.96, at $7.84/pint (16 oz)
Grocery store: Non-organic vanilla, McCormick’s: $7.19 for a 2 oz bottle, or $57.52/pint
Grocery store: Non-organic vanilla store brand: $4.49 for a 1 oz bottle, or $71.84/pint

Deceiving Interesting that the generic store brand was more expensive than the name brand. They even had a 4-oz jug of organic vanilla for cheaper, at $9.99 a bottle ($39.96 a pint)—I’ll give it the benefit of the doubt, and tell myself it was on sale or something. Still can’t touch the co-op, though.

Your mileage may vary, of course, but if you’re wondering whether it’s worth the effort to buy spices in bulk, go ahead and bring a calculator the next time you go shopping. For us, it’s a no-brainer. The money we save every year on spices is plenty enough to justify the larger budget required for the certified-organic meat we buy—that’s the subject of the next post.

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Thanks for all the comments and emails in response to the last post. One email asked how to find a co-op in one’s region; I did a little digging, and it seems like they’re all over the place. Visit www.coopdirectory.org to find information for hundreds of co-ops around the country, and even a few internationally.

Minnesota comes in first, with a staggering forty-one food co-ops (forty-two are listed, but the North Country Co-op went out of business a couple of years ago)—far more than both New York and California, the seemingly “obvious” states. We’ve got twenty-three here in Washington, and even tiny Vermont has fifteen. The only state that wasn’t listed as having a co-op is Alabama.

The fact that so many of these things (not to mention all the natural food stores and conventional markets with bulk sections) exist means that stores are listening to their customers, and providing more and more choices for all of us. I think that many stores depend on the fact that many people shop out of habit, simply trusting stores to have reasonable prices and healthy items. And co-ops face not only the huge marketing budgets and competitive tactics of corporate grocery chains (I don’t shop at Trader Joe’s because they moved in right next door to our co-op—eat it, Trader Joe’s!), but also the perception that organic always equals expensive. But between the variety of bulk foods now available and the heightened awareness of many shoppers armed with calculators, I really think this is beginning to change.

And that’s a heartening thought.