Tess just spent a week playing a 19th century farm girl. She’s done camps at this living-history museum every summer since she was 4. (You haven’t seen cute until you’ve seen 4-year-olds dressed like Laura Ingalls.) But the previous camps were a little of this, a little of that, a sampler of life in the 1800s.

Now that she’s 7, Tess got to pick a themed camp, and 19th Century Farm Kids it was, held at the Pioneer Farmstead at Genesee Country Village & Museum, about 30 minutes from where we live in western New York.

Over the week, the kids learned about the animals (sheep, oxen, ducks, geese, chickens, turkeys, cows and pigs), collected eggs and dabbled in cheesemaking. They pulled purslane for salads. And soaked flax to extract the fibers for linen-making. They even picked and tasted hops. (There’s a working 19th century brewery on-site.)

There was barn-cleaning and wood-stacking, work followed by the fun of 19th century games. They shelled corn and sewed corn bags (like bean bags), then made them again after chipmunks raided the barn.

Every day they recorded their experiences in journals, using fountain pens and ink.

I’ve written about GCVM before, in posts on maple sugaring and teaching kids about industrial meat production. The village offers immersion-style history, with costumed role-players sharing the mundane yet fascinating rhythms of early American life. That of course includes the routines and rituals of food and farming. And for kids, especially, it’s a great lesson in agriculture at its most basic. Sure, the kids immerse for only a few hours a day, and they go home in air-conditioned cars to houses with refrigerators and snacks in bags, but it all sinks in, you know?

It’s the reason (along with the “Little House” picture books) that Tess wanted a pioneer party for her 5th birthday, which we  managed to pull off by renting a 1938 log cabin (itself a replica of a 1721 fort) in a nearby park. How authentic? No heat. Only a fireplace. In December. Looking back, it seems a little nuts. But there was sledding and butter-making and running around in bonnets and straw hats. And everyone went home with maple candy and an appreciation for central heat. (Oh: Renting a cabin with no heat in December? Cheap.)

This summer, when we visited Plimoth Plantation in Plymouth, Mass., we found fantastic exhibits and stories about how the Wampanoag and the colonists ate seasonally, in sync with nature. And these museums are everywhere. Check out the Association for Living History, Farm and Agricultural Museums, with members throughout the U.S. and Canada.

My only complaint about farm camp?  Though kids brought their own snacks and lunches (stored in cloth-covered baskets), the camp supplied drinks. Two choices: Water and “lemonade.”  As in: Country Time. As in: artificial colors and other chemical additives that no way, no how existed in the 1800s. (Though, OK, some other poisonous food colorings did.) And, oh, by the way, no actual lemon. Next time, I’d like to see the kids make their own real lemonade. Just like Mrs. Oleson.

Spoonfed is on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

This post is linked into Real Food Wednesdays and Fight Back Fridays.

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On the road this summer, I was struck, as I always am while traveling, by what other kids eat. For all the junk food in everyday life, there’s something astonishing about vacation. Maybe it’s the sheer volume of really bad food. Or the vacation-treat mentality. Or all those wiped-out parents desperate for something, anything, edible. All I know is that it gets to me.

I know better. I know about rampant bad options and insidious marketing. I know it takes time to educate ourselves and steely resolve to reject the status quo. And I personally know lots of people who just years — even months — ago had epiphanies about the state of our food supply and now wonder how they could have been so blind for so long. And I’m still learning, too. Every. Single. Day. So I know that many people are at their own points on their own journeys.

But as much as I believe in the importance of small steps, as much as I preach and practice tact and humor when dealing with tricky situations, as much as we’ve worked hard to raise Tess to be non-judgmental, I still sometimes have to fight the urge to walk up to complete strangers and roar about the Coke-Cheetos-McFried-bits they’re feeding their kids.

The longer I’m a parent, the more I have actual visceral reactions to seeing children eat this way. At a living-history museum last month, I was pleasantly surprised by the cafeteria’s a la carte salads, fruit-and-cheese plates and hummus packs. It was enough that we could cobble together a decent lunch when we decided to stay longer than planned. But still I heard nearly every other parent ask: “Where’s your kids’ menu?” Which of course had the usual substandard fare. Call me melodramatic, but I wanted to scream.

Instead, I did what I always do and mumbled to my husband. Other times it’s my friends who get an earful. And other times, if the opportunity comes up to weigh in, if another parent somehow invites my advice (like that mother at Starbucks who wanted me to tell her 5-year-old that he’d be more satisfied with a juice box and donut than with “just water”… um, no), I am diplomacy personified, because I really do believe that’s more effective. But does that stop me from having crazy thoughts? Hell no.

And let me tell you: I read a lot of food blogs. I track a lot of food news. I talk to a lot of people. And my surreptitious judging seems quaint by comparison. There’s a whole lot of judging when it comes to parenting in general, but food in particular. And the interwebs have made it far too easy for folks comfy in their convictions to sit back and let the snark flow.

So here’s what I propose: Can we all promise to do one thing (each month?) to help increase access to good food and educate others about our food supply? Send someone to a local farm or farmers’ market or natural-foods store. Invite a friend to dinner. Tell someone about your CSA. Volunteer to teach a cooking class at a food pantry, or your church or community center. Get into your kids’ school, plant a garden and come up with ideas for increasing food literacy. Do something, anything.* Less judging, more helping.

Off to pick at the CSA farm

The start of a school year is in many ways like the start of a new year, filled with promise and renewal, beginnings and opportunities. So as the new school year approaches, let’s take the opportunity to make a difference. One way to start: Pass this on. Help other parents make good choices. Be their tipping point. Because we all were there once.

*A reader suggested volunteering to drive low-income folks to affordable grocery stores. That gave me a few more ideas (which I also shared in the comments): Research local CSAs that offer sliding scales or discounts, then pass that info on to food banks and social-service agencies. Donate excess garden produce through AmpleHarvest.org. Check with local food pantries to see if you can volunteer to glean (pick leftover crops) at a local farm.

Spoonfed is on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

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PBS is showing the movie “Food Inc.” tonight. So I’m pulling out a review I wrote when the movie debuted. Have you seen the film? Planning to watch tonight? Maybe recording it to watch later with your kids? (See more about kid viewing below.)

You’ll never look at food the same way again. I promise. So watch (check your local listings here), then come tell me what you thought.

Food fight

Real food. Whether we grow it or just eat it, here’s my definition: Something that grows in the ground or grazes on it, then is harvested with care and left in as natural a state as possible until it’s consumed. By us. Hopefully with appreciation for where it came from.

I think about this subject a lot. Like all the time, obsessively. And I talk about it, too, which gets mixed reactions. Some friends share my passion. Others wish I would shut up already. The teachers at my daughter’s preschool graciously indulged our practice of supplying our own snacks every day. But the counselors at her summer camp gave blank stares when I suggested that blue ice pops were not real food.

So it’s no surprise that my husband and I found ourselves at a screening of the documentary “Food Inc.,” which showed at the Little Theatre in May as part of the Rochester High Falls International Film Festival. The movie, which has just been released nationwide, argues for a simpler, more transparent and democratic food system — instead of the overly mechanized and subsidized, oligarchic system that has taken its toll on our collective health and the health of the planet.

Thanks to industrialized agriculture, “the way we eat has changed more in the last 50 years than in the previous 10,000,” the food writer Michael Pollan says in the film.

Predictably, there are dark themes: the death of a 2-year-old boy who ate an E. coli-tainted hamburger; farmers intimidated into debt and out of business; chickens bred for breasts so large that the birds can’t stand; a family forced to choose cheap fast food over fresh produce because otherwise they couldn’t afford the father’s (diabetes-related) medicine; and a “hamburger filler” factory where animal parts are sanitized with ammonia and smooshed like fruit roll-ups.

But as people in the audience covered their eyes and cringed, I wanted to shout out for everyone to sit up, look straight ahead and face down the food on their plates. Then, maybe, hopefully, take a deep breath and next time make a different choice.

I’ve been encouraged by the growth of the local-foods movement in western New York, by the rise of so many new farmers’ markets and CSAs (community-supported farms). And by the new crop of idealistic — yet in no way naïve — farmers and producers who’ve embraced our agrarian roots and brought us closer again to food the way it was meant to be eaten.

But if enough of us vote with our forks, even Big Food will play along. With momentum and some loud voices, food policy could shift away from subsidies for monoculture crops like corn and soybeans and toward the development of diverse, sustainable agriculture, making healthy food the norm, no matter your address or paycheck.

Until then? Plant a garden or at least some tomatoes, visit a market, join a CSA, buy pastured meat and dairy, make some jam. And when it hits local theaters, see “Food Inc.” Popcorn optional.

For a little extra inspiration, check out this “Food Inc.” discussion guide from the Center for Ecoliteracy. It’s aimed at high school students, but, as I wrote in a previous post, there’s a case to be made for showing the film even to younger kids. Or at least for talking with them about the issues it raises. We haven’t shown our 7-year-old the movie yet, but we plan to soon. 

Need help deciding whether to let your children watch? Check out these kid-centric reviews from Common Sense Media and Parent Previews.

This post originally appeared on Spoonfed in April 2010, when PBS showed the film in honor of Earth Day.

Spoonfed is on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

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Last day of school. Time for a final salute to my daughter’s terrific first-grade teacher. And to all the other teachers who realize that what kids eat — and what they know about food — matters.

But it’s the last couple months, I think, that have been the most remarkable. It’s during this time that Ms. S has been leading a “Sustainable You” unit. OK, a lot of schools and a lot of teachers do healthy-eating units. But you know how that goes: Eat your vegetables. Don’t eat too many sweets. Drink your milk. Not every school food lesson is like that. But a lot of them are.

This one was different. The kids read books about sustainable food and food habits, including the amazing “Hungry Planet: What the World Eats,” which chronicles, in vivid photographs, a week’s worth of groceries for 30 families in 24 countries. They completed worksheets tied to the film “What’s on Your Plate?” that asked kids to “talk about what they eat, where it comes from and why that matters.” We discussed the importance of local agriculture, the differences between whole and processed foods, and why chemical ingredients are bad news.

Mind you, this wasn’t my doing. I helped. I gave Ms. S some ideas and lent her some books. But she started it and ran with it. And, most importantly, she owned it. This wasn’t a PC food unit. She didn’t shy from controversial topics. But she did it with grace and good humor, and no one felt offended or judged or put on the spot.

Then there were the everyday things, like how Ms. S handled food differences and snacks and parties, things I talked about in this post and that we’re discussing again this week on Facebook. Just good stuff that made me grateful for a kindred spirit in the classroom.

The kids finished the unit with a walk to the farmers’ market and through the school garden for some local produce to bake and dehydrate for their Poet Tea, a sort of poetry slam for the grade-school set. And tonight at the school picnic the class will give Ms. S  food-themed gifts to end the year: gift certificates for a local food co-op and two producer-only farmers’ markets, and a classroom copy of “Hungry Planet.” And memories books from the kids. Not food-themed. Just awesome.

Any teacher food stories of your own? Tales from this year? Hopes for next?

Happy summer, all.

Spoonfed is now on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

This post is linked into Fight Back Fridays.

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In the weeks since the FDA passed the buck on artificial food dyes, there’s been a lot of talk about the studies. Studies that elicit dismissive words like “inconclusive” and “inconsistent.” Or my favorite: “urban legends.”

The FDA’s advisory panel, while weighing warning labels for foods containing fake dyes, did acknowledge ill effects in some kids with behavioral problems, and called for more research. But the panel wasn’t convinced of dangers for the general population. (Not enough, anyway. The vote was 8 to 6.) So no labels. “If we put a label that long on every chemical and ingredient that hasn’t been adequately studied,” epidemiologist Tim Jones told the Washington Post, “you wouldn’t see the package anymore.”

Hold up. So the people making the rules (or advising the people who make the rules) won’t OK warning labels, because the dye-behavior research is inconclusive. Yet they’ll allow food ingredients where the research is… inconclusive.

How do I even begin to deconstruct that irony?

I know. Let’s just forget the concept of warning labels. Instead: Don’t allow anything that “hasn’t been adequately studied” to be put in food or called food in the first place.

This radical idea has a name. It’s called the precautionary principle, and it’s the idea that if something could harm the public or the environment — especially in the absence of significant benefit — you don’t do it. If there are doubts, even if there’s no scientific consensus, the burden shifts from proving harm to proving safety.

Here’s how that would apply to food dyes: Instead of requiring scientists, parents and consumer advocates to prove that petrochemical dyes cause health and behavioral issues, the precautionary principle would require dye makers, food manufacturers and regulatory agencies to prove that these colors don’t cause health and behavioral issues.

The thing is, this isn’t some fantasy ethical theory. It’s actually in use, not only in other countries, but also, to a limited degree, in the United States. And has been for at least 20 years. The precautionary principle underlies U.S. acts governing workplace safety and endangered species, for instance (though it’s debatable how seriously it’s applied). It’s the reason some European countries have banned genetically modified crops and/or require labels on foods made with GMOs.

And when the U.K. Food Standards Agency encouraged parents and manufacturers to avoid food dyes, and the European Parliament mandated dye warning labels, the message was clear: Rather than risk children’s health, let’s be responsible and take precautions while we figure it out. And wouldn’t you know it? Several huge U.S. food manufacturers swapped petrochemical dyes for natural dyes in products they sell overseas (in some cases dropping preservatives and artificial sweeteners, too). But here at home they’ve continued peddling the same chemical junk.

So of course the food industry cheered the FDA’s non-decision last month. It’s all about personal responsibility, food makers say. Artificial colors are listed right there on the label, they point out. But that’s lame. Consumers need to be responsible, yes, but food manufacturers also need to own up to the potential dangers and stop obfuscating with goofy justifications.

Like this, from a recent New York Times story:

“Color is such a crucial part of the eating experience that banning dyes would take much of the pleasure out of life,” said Kantha Shelke, a food chemist and spokeswoman for the Institute of Food Technologists. “Would we really want to ban everything when only a small percentage of us are sensitive?”

Banana or “banana”?

Indeed, color often defines flavor in taste tests. When tasteless yellow coloring is added to vanilla pudding, consumers say it tastes like banana or lemon pudding. And when mango or lemon flavoring is added to white pudding, most consumers say that it tastes like vanilla pudding. Color creates a psychological expectation for a certain flavor that is often impossible to dislodge, Dr. Shelke said.

“Color can actually override the other parts of the eating experience,” she said.

Seriously? Banning food dyes would “take much of the pleasure out of life”? And do we want to think food tastes like banana or vanilla? Or do we want it to actually taste like banana or vanilla?

Then there’s this explanation from the benign-sounding but industry-funded International Food Information Council Foundation:

Color additives are used in foods for many reasons: 1) to offset color loss due to exposure to light, air, temperature extremes, moisture and storage conditions; 2) to correct natural variations in color; 3) to enhance colors that occur naturally; and 4) to provide color to colorless and “fun” foods. Without color additives, colas wouldn’t be brown, margarine wouldn’t be yellow and mint ice cream wouldn’t be green. Color additives are now recognized as an important part of practically all processed foods we eat.

The IFIC gets points for honesty. Though I get the impression that nobody over there sees the problem with “color loss due to exposure to light, air, temperature extremes, moisture and storage conditions.” (Um, ick.) And, really, let’s just drop the ruse and drink water, use butter and eat minty white ice cream instead.

But here’s the thing. Just because the FDA did nothing, just because the food industry is big and rich and apparently shameless, that doesn’t mean the rest of us are powerless. The choices we make, the voices we raise — it all matters:

Know what you’re eating
First and foremost: read ingredients. Artificial colors are listed by color and number (see the image below). For more detail on food dyes and other additives, use smartphone apps like those from Fooducate and the Center for Science in the Public Interest. It seems overwhelming, I know, because food dyes are in even natural-looking foods, like pickles and tortilla chips. But you can avoid them. Really, you can. We do. And I know lots of other people who do, too. A bonus: Ditching artificial colors will automatically improve your diet, since they’re a hallmark of low-quality foods.

Tell companies you’re not buying it
Write to food manufacturers and sign petitions, like this one asking Kraft Foods to stop using petrochemical dyes here just as it’s done overseas. If you have certain brands you favor, find the consumer contact information on their websites and tell the companies how you feel.

Report your personal experiences
The Center for Science in the Public Interest, the main group that lobbied for the FDA hearings, collects stories from parents whose children have had adverse reactions to food dyes. For some kids, the effects are devastatingly obvious. But even kids who aren’t hard-wired can react. I’d even argue that’s the case for most kids, on some level, whether parents realize it’s happening or not. Think about how many times you’ve been at a birthday party with junky cake and seen the ramp-up, the fidgets, distractedness. It’s not sugar that causes the crazies. It’s food dye and other additives. And even if your kid is unfazed, watch how the jacked-up kids change the group dynamic. Then imagine what happens in school when kids bring Lunchables and colored yogurt and “fruit” gummies, sucking all the teacher’s attention because they can’t behave. That sort of thing? That counts as your personal experience, too.

Try to get your school on board
Easier said than done, I realize. Even in my daughter’s small, progressive school, we’ve gotten pushback while trying to discourage food dyes from shared foods (for parties and birthdays). But it’s worth a shot. Gather some background data on food dyes (a good place to start: past Spoonfed posts). Then take a look at these how-to guides from PEACHSF.org. Especially if you’re in a larger school or district, you’ll find great tips on how to approach your school and be an effective advocate. And if all you do is raise awareness or food IQ even a bit, well, that’s something.

Too often, consumer (especially parent) concerns are dismissed as emotional, driven by fear instead of fact. But the precautionary principle turns that criticism around:

What the precautionary principle says is that fear — in the form of caution — has its place. When there is real reason to be careful, when an activity raises threats of harm, act accordingly! That is common sense, not an absolute.

But the precautionary principle is not just against what we fear; it is laid down on the side of what we love. We proclaim in the precautionary principle that human health and the environment are worth protecting.

Amen to that. Our health is worth it. Our kids are worth it. (And a nod to Earth Day: So is the planet they’ll inherit.) Now let’s get this done.

Thoughts on caution, accountability, making choices, raising voices?

Spoonfed is now on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

*Click here for more details on Tattfoo Tan’s Nature Matching System project.

This post is linked into Real Food Wednesdays and Fight Back Fridays.

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The web is awash in tutorials on natural dyes, including this great simple piece from What’s Cooking with Kids. For more detailed techniques and color effects, check out Martha Stewart and KitchenGardener. Onion skins make gorgeous colors, as shown on these Passover eggs and wrapped eggs.

Green can be tricky, but Kris Bordessa of Attainable Sustainable wrote in Kiwi magazine about using chlorophyll capsules (three capsules to one cup of boiling water). And Melissa Graham of Little Locavores shared in a comment on this Spoonfed post that red wine makes a killer purple. Sparkly, too. But the wine has to be freshly opened, so, you know, get drinking while the kids are dunking.

My contribution to this seasonal fare? An eggsperiment, excerpted from last year’s post, in which I used natural dyes to make fake vs. real more tangible for my daughter:

It’s Easter. Time to color eggs. Why not use fruits and vegetables to dye them naturally? And have a little plant-science lesson on the side? Out came the neon dye tablets leftover from last year. (We dyed. We did not eat.) Then the test tubes from a science kit. Plop, plop, fizz, fizz — oh what a fake color that is.

Me to Tess: “Have you ever seen colors like that in nature?”

Tess: a dutiful grimace and shake of the head.

On to the stove, where we filled pots with eggs, water and various fruits, vegetables and juices. (Here’s where I direct you to folks more kitchen-crafty than me, so you, too, can experience the joy of boiling eggs along with beets and blueberry juice.)

We used brown eggs (instead of the recommended white eggs), so the colors were unpredictable. The beets produced a warm dark brown. Spinach didn’t take at all. The blueberry juice, however, made a deep purple that got a “cool” out of my daughter. And because she really wants pink eggs, we’re going to try another batch with raspberry or pomegranate juice.

As each pot filled with the color of the cooking produce, we talked about how plants have so many beautiful natural colors and how each color represents nutrients our bodies need. With color extracts literally seeping into the water, there was no question at all where they came from, or that we can find all the color we need without putting on a lab coat.

And, at the least, we’ll have chocolate. Because in addition to the additive-free candy I ordered, I’ll be making chocolate bunny pops using this fantastic recipe from Food with Kid Appeal. The ingredients? Coconut butter, coconut oil, raw honey, almond butter, cacao powder, cinnamon, cayenne pepper and sea salt. I haven’t even made them yet, and already I’m addicted.

Are you dyeing eggs? Making treats? Otherwise prepping for visits of the bunny kind?

Spoonfed is now on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

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Whether you’re a kid or a blog, turning 1 year old is a big deal, all hoopla and exclaiming about where the time went. So 1 year plus 1 month? That calls for something extra special. Like, say, finally creating a Spoonfed Facebook page.

I let Spoonfed’s March 15 anniversary pass quietly, for no other reason than I couldn’t figure out a commemoration that wasn’t goofy or indulgent. But I couldn’t let it go completely unmarked. Writing Spoonfed, engaging with readers, meeting so many smart and passionate people, and feeling like I actually make a difference when I shout out into the world — that’s worth a woo hoo, don’t you think?

Or at least a new Facebook page. I hope you’ll click through and join me, ask questions, share news that moves you. Maybe even tell your friends. (Also check out the new Facebook button at the top of the blog.) I’ll use the page for Spoonfed posts (of course). But I’ll also share bits from my daily digging through news, research and commentary on all things related to raising food-literate kids.

And who knows? Maybe on my next arbitrary anniversary, I’ll get really crazy and start using my Twitter account.

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The other night I watched Jamie Oliver on the “Late Show.” At one point, amid cooking, pitching his newest “Food Revolution” and tweaking David Letterman, Oliver got serious and said (to paraphrase): With what we know about food and health, we ought to be doing better by our kids. Anything less is a crime.

Lots of people hear something like that and scoff. A crime? Sheesh, don’t be so dramatic. But when school food is influenced by government conflicts  and corporate kickbacks, when food manufacturers and marketers aren’t held accountable, when the FDA allows additives to go unchecked, well, what else do you call it?

So I’m on board for season two of “Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution,” which starts tonight (8 p.m. ET) on ABC. While Oliver’s critics make some valid points, I think his heart is solidly in this. And our kids need more people who not only give a damn, but are willing to do something about it. Even if that something is a “reality” show where a cheeky Brit holds up a mirror to how we feed kids in this country, in school and out.

The show’s first season was set in Huntington, W.Va. This year it’s in Los Angeles. Couple of good articles: Oliver’s motivations and the L.A. experience. Read, watch, let me know what you think. And now a sneak peek:

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It’s easy to feel overwhelmed, even paralyzed, by the state of our food system, the adulteration and deception, the sheer insanity of what the food industry wants us to feed our kids. It’s why a lot of people shut down, look away, give up.

Know anybody like that? Been tempted yourself? Watch this.

It’s a just-released TEDx talk from Robyn O’Brien, a former food-industry analyst who founded the non-profit AllergyKids and wrote the 2009 book “The Unhealthy Truth: One mother’s shocking investigation into the dangers of America’s food supply — and what every family can do to protect itself.”

You will be inspired, I promise:

“I realized you can’t make the perfect the enemy of the good. It’s really all about progress, not perfection. … Just as you don’t potty-train a kid overnight and you don’t wean them from a sippy cup overnight, this is a process. It doesn’t happen overnight. But if each and every single one of us does one thing, we have the ability to effect remarkable change.”

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