Independent America

Palace Cafe: Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

We completed five thousand miles of arduous secondary-highway driving, from Seattle to New Orleans yesterday evening.  It took us four and a half days.  There were a few occasions where I was tempted to give up, and opt for the quick fix of the Interstate.

But my companions were having none of this.  They were up for the challenge, perhaps inspired by Aristotle's Poetics, which we studied in Storytelling class in the winter (no good story comes without some kind of need to overcome a serious obstacle).

I always intended this road trip to provide the link between the first Independent America film, and this one -- something like Act One, before we dove into New Orleans' Acts Two and Three.

And once we crossed into Louisiana, I felt that imperceptible upshift in our story.  At the suggestion of Civic Economics' Dan Houston, we stopped at the Palace Cafe in Opelousas, right off US 190, the Acadian Highway.

Best Independent America Eats

On of the highlights of this trip was that we were able to taste our way across the country.  We enjoyed wild seafood & artistic cofee in the Northwest, ultra-organic and produce straight from the farm in Northern California, that unmistakable Southwestern flavour in Santa Fe, Bar-B-Que to write home about in Texas and local abundance in the quiet hills in America's Northeast.
Here now is a sample of our favorite Eats from Independent America:

Life is a Bowl of Raspberries

It's Independent American Heather's birthday today.  She took that wonderful photo of those raspberries in our backyard -- they were supplied by our independent Urban Harvest (read more about it on her food blog).

This morning, she had espresso and biscotti, purchased from our independent Italian grocer.  It was a picnic breakfast by the side of a nearby creek.  We rode our bikes.  Today is meant to be the polar opposite of what we experienced during our trip: sedentary, relaxing, limited car travel, restful, computers mainly off (except for this entry).

Tomorrow, the real work begins.  Viewing tape, thinking, structuring and writing.  And oh yeah, I lost half of my video because of yet another hard drive crash.  Happily, everything's still on tape.  But that's not a concern today.  Happy Birthday Heather!!!

Rainy Day Mocha in Yelm

We're waiting to speak with a few people in Yelm about the city council's ban on the words Wal-Mart & big box at city council meetings.  At the moment we're digging into yummy sandwiches and "Rainy Day Mochas" at The Blue Bottle.  "This is just a sweet place" Hanson says, "the colors are great."  And he's right.  The Blue Bottle is run by a mother - daughter duo and from our experience it's a winning combination.

We know we're back in the PNW, when I ordered a cappuccino, I was asked if I wanted it "wet or dry" it's good to be back!

If you're in Yelm and you need an espresso pick up, a bit of lunch or some wireless... stop in The Blue Bottle, you'll be glad you did.

Where's the (Local) Beef?

Surprisingly, my search continues.  For a restaurant in a cattle-raising state that actually serves up a slice of the local steer.  In Bozeman two nights ago, the menu boasted Angus Brand steaks.  When I asked the server if the meat they used were Montana born, bred and slaughtered, she said, “You’re not the first person to ask that.”  Then she added sheepishly.  “Our steak comes from the Dakotas and Washington.”

Well I’ve been through one of the Dakotas, and no sign of Dakota steak there.  And we’re in eastern Washington where Heather’s grandfather used to raise cattle.  A perfect place to find Montana beef?

Without conducting any scientific research, I will conclude for now that it’s all about the food distribution network.  I may be told by restaurants that it’s about controlling quality and consistency.  That local producers can’t assure that, but I think that’s just a cop-out.  Sysco and Wal-Mart have proven that the way to get to Carnegie Hall is distribution, distribution, and distribution.  Wait…I mean – Oh you know what I mean.

Here at the end of all things, I regret not keeping closer count of all the Wal-Mart trucks we have passed, on the smallest, most remote highways.  (Maybe they’re doing Independent America too.)  It’s worth noting that not once did we see a Costco or K-Mart vehicle.  Wal-Mart, as we know all too well, is King of the Road.  Proud and Teamster-free.

Here’s my beef.  My inability to find a local steak in Iowa, Nebraska, South Dakota or Wyoming has finally helped me understand the driving mission of Independent America.  Left unchecked, corporate chain retail (and its powerful distribution network) can kill diversity, concentrate economic power and over-promote homogeneity.  Our search for Mom & Pop was not some esoteric quest for an era come and gone.  Fundamentally, it’s an inquiry into how economic diversity affects the quality of our democracy.

What?  That weekly purchase of a dozen eggs from the Wal-Mart Supercenter can bring down the Republic?  Talk to Reclaimdemocracy.org’s Jeff Milchen, which is what I did yesterday morning, and you will absolutely believe that your morning omelet might silence the many voices of freedom.

Day 52 +1: Lincoln Style

Alliance NE:

By "Lincoln Style", I don't mean the President who freed the slaves.  Or his cross-country U.S 30.  Or even the capital of Nebraska.

I mean the food on board the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln, my home for five weeks in 2003 during a particular Middle Eastern war.  Institutionalized.  Comforting.  Not especially nutritious.  Filling.  Anytown U.S.A. – even in the middle of the Persian Gulf.  Not something I would normally order unless I was deeply depressed or desperate.  Or covering a war.

And since we crossed time zones in Indiana heading west, that more or less sums up what we've eaten.  Enriched bleached white flour.  Canned tomato sauce.  Industrially-cut frozen fries. Mass produced. Globally-sourced.  No sense of place.  Not like the homegrown specialties of New Mexico. North Carolina. Vermont.  Our Midwest experience: wonderful people, shame about the food.

Here in western Nebraska – in cattle country -- I can't even order a steak in one town's better restaurants. It's probably too early in the year, but the corn I had tonight had to come from a can – despite being surrounded by millions of acres of the stuff.  What happened here?  We just got back from an independent cinema screening of "War of the Worlds."  Did Sysco take over while we were away?  (Great special effects, dramatically, horrifyingly bad ending – we should have known in the first few minutes when the fake news anchors kept saying "THE Ukraine".)

The good news: windshield insect splatter has resumed since we left behind the corn-infested fields of Iowa and eastern Nebraska.  It had been disquietingly clean back there, as if some greater force had eradicated all bug life.  Maybe a bad apocalyptic movie has just put me in a bad mood…

Better news: the air is growing thinner and cooler as we climb ever westwards.  I am truly a citizen of the west.  Omega fatty acids of the closest salmon run…here we come.

Would This Happen at McDonald's?

We drove down to downtown Burlington IA an hour ago to get a few shots of the Mississippi River.  And have breakfast.  We walked into a very full Jerry's, a diner on the north end of Main Street.  No one spoke. 

Everyone was rude enough to turn their heads and check us out, not polite enough to say anything.  Even the old guy in the room in the back craned his neck so hard, it looked like he would achieve a right angle to the rest of his body.  I said something like, "And everybody's happy to stare."  I was irked and longing for home.  No one responded.  Small towns I guess.

We scampered back to the haven of the Arrowhead Motel, 3 miles and a world away.  With its fancy aquarium, 42" Sony widescreen TV behind the lobby counter (so a much friendlier Jerry can show his guests digital photos of the town's sites), Rainbow flags, and an apparent connection with the rest of the socialized world.  We're hungry and we're hitting U.S. 34 West for Nebraska.  We hope to be in Seattle this time next week.

p.s. Dennis at the Arrowhead directed us to Bob's Diner for brunch today.  The warm welcome there (and the good food) made up for our earlier experience.  The frosted bun with cinnamon and butter didn't hurt either!

Books & Eats in Ann Arbor

The morning air in Toledo was cool, breezy and surprisingly fresh.  A severe storm blowing 60 mph winds blew just past the city late last night.  We witnessed an ominous and approaching storm cloud and a few lighting strikes but unfortunately nothing too exciting.  Summer storms are not a common occurrence in our part of the world... they are a thing of wonder, and yes sometimes disaster.  This writer may not be so enthralled once we hit Tornado Alley.

We stopped this afternoon in Ann Arbor, Michigan to speak with Karl Pohrt of Shaman Drum Bookstore on S. State Street.   Karl was recommended to us by Chuck Robinson of Village Books in Bellingham  - mostly because they are good friends and colleagues but also because Shaman Drum is a stone’s throw from the flagship Borders store.  Borders started as a Mom & Pop shop in Michigan in the 1970s. Today, partnered with Amazon.com it is the largest bookstore retailer in the world.  We had hoped to speak with a representative of Borders but our request was declined.  It’s unfortunate because we had a frank and interesting conversation with Wal-Mart and we are currently in dialogue with Starbucks.  Borders would have rounded the trio nicely – considering all three began as local, independent stores that went on to global success.

Heading West on the Oregon Trail

After a late road start this morning we debated whether to take Route 20, the original Oregon Trail or Interstate 90, ugly and boring but likely faster.  We opted for 20.  Rule are rules afterall and as we made them we should probably stick to them whenever possible.

It didn’t take us long to feel good about our decision.  Shortly after leaving gritty Albany, Route 20 took us through one quaint town after another with rolling lush fields, lakes and marshes in between.  We’ve been keeping a good pace of about 50 mph and are fairly entertained by the passing landscape and historic architecture.  It beats the interstate with with its boring scenery (or lack thereof), heavy traffic and passing semi-trucks.

We stopped in the adorable town of Sharon Springs for a bite to eat.  Colorful Victorian style homes lined the streets, a light breeze gave a bit of life to the American flags hanging from the porches and here and there, people lounged on their shady patios.  A roadside sign had directed us down a windy street but we passed the pub and stopped at Ginos – an authentic Italian café stocked with every conceivable canned good from the Mother Land as you can imagine.  It actually made us a little homesick for our own Italian market back home - Valoroso.  At the time of our arrival, Ginos was empty.  2 pm, is afterall, a little late for lunch.  But the pizza pies still looked fresh and the menu was still available.  Moments later we were enjoying frozen cappuccinos and digging into a slice of “salad” pizza (thin crust topped with a thin layter of cheese, lettuce, basil and tomatoes) and a calzone SO good we thought we were back in Italia.  A fabulous pizza dough (light, crunch where necessary, chew where appropriate) wrapped around a massive amount of mozzarella, ricotta and pepperoni, marinara on the side.   It was a charming and delicious find we had chance to enjoy specifically because we chose this route.

At this moment 5:15 EST we're in Zuzu Cafe in Seneca Falls, posting, sipping espresso and satisfying a sweet tooth.

P.S.  If Phina & Sophie Pipia of Port Townsend are reading we're on our way to Fredonia!  We'll give the song our best shot.  Cheers

Breakfast at the Farmers Diner

Click photo to enlarge
It's not every day one gets to eat a full breakfast sourced from the surrounding countryside but it's exactly what we did this morning.