Composting at K

Sammy Jolly gets behind the wheel of the FacMan cart, loaded with seven 5-gallon buckets. She reverses expertly out of the garage and down the parking lot behind the Athletic building. I hop in next to her and we bump along, up academy, in front of Hoben, behind Hicks, and down a packed, icy trail to the center of the Grove.

Sammy spends 10 hours a week hauling buckets of rotting food around campus. She drives a cart from the coffee shop in the library to the President’s house to the grove collecting hundreds of pounds of food waste every day. It’s heavy, sloppy, and pungent. She’s invested in her work composting; turning the forgotten apples that became soft in your refrigerator’s crisper, the extra pans of lasagna uneaten in the caf, the crusts and extras we return to the kitchen on the revolving racks because we’re too full, into nutrient-dense plant fertilizer.

According to the USDA, Americans waste enough food everyday to fill a 90,000-seat football stadium. That’s 141 trillion unconsumed calories per year. We throw away tons of edible food at the levels of production (on farms), processing (in factories and kitchens), and consumption (out of our refrigerators and off of our plates). The 133 billion pounds our country wasted in 2010 was worth about $16.6 billion.

In a perfect world, composting would exist only to repurpose inedible food scraps – banana peels, carrot tops, onionskins. It now functions as one way to lessen the impact of mass amounts of perfectly edible food waste. Our campus food waste program was developed in 2006, when data from an audit showed that we were sending nearly two tons of food to the landfill per week.

Sammy is one of two compost interns who works for Facilities Management. She spends hours carting and dumping food scraps to enable our campus food waste operations to function. All post-consumer food waste from the caf is composted in the two Earth Tubs in the Facilities Management parking lot, and food waste from off-campus student housing, and a few sites on campus, is composted in piles in the grove.

My fingers are stiff from the bitter air by the time we heave the buckets out of the cart in the grove. Sammy weighs each bucket with a small, brass suspension scale she attaches to a cable dangling from a branch. Five buckets of coffee grounds from the Book Club, one with papaya peels discernable among sweet, fermented-smelling fruit scraps from President’s W.O’s house, and one with a few whole apples and onions from an off campus house add up to 112 pounds.

We dump the potpourri of food waste, bucket-by-bucket, on the ground in front of the wooden structure built three years ago. I use a flat-edged hoe to chop up the food scraps. I slice grapefruit peels, coffee filters, avocado skins, an apple missing a few bites to pieces. Smaller food particles create greater surface area for the microorganisms to feed on, and ultimately, a more homogenous final product. Cutie clementine and Chiquita banana stickers peek out of the sludge. I continue to crunch eggshells and stab at the stubborn, fibrous coffee filters while Sammy sticks a thermometer into the belly of the pile.

Temperature is a good indication of the health and efficiency of a compost heap. The bacteria and fungi eating the particles can increase the temperature up to 140 degrees Fahrenheit – hot enough to kill pathogens and weed seeds. Though the air temperature is less than 20 degrees Fahrenheit, the pile is up to 99, still a bit cooler than usual. Sammy speculates it’s due to the increased volume of food scraps she’s added in the last week, or the excess moisture from the snow.

 “We have this makeshift pallet and plastic garbage bag thing to keep the snow off,” Sammy says, pulling at a scrap of gray plastic atop the wooden frame housing the pile. There are three compartments, each about 4X4X4 feet, separating ready-to-use compost, curing compost, and the freshest, most fragrant pile that we’ve been working with. Each pile will be rotated to make space to start a fresh pile for spring quarter. “We try to do one pile per quarter,” Sammy says, “but we’re kind of outgrowing our capacity.”

In 2010, a FacMan student intern initiated a program to collect food waste from the cafeteria and truck it to Lake Village Homestead Farm, 11 miles from campus, to feed to their pigs. “It was pretty successful and very easy to manage, except that it was not entirely legal,” Paul Manstrom, Asscociate Vice President of Facilities Management, said.

They realized this about a year after the program started when the Department of Agriculture came across the promotional video students had posted on YouTube. A few days later, “We had three people from the DA on campus nosing around,” Manstrom said.

There were two problems with the program: FacMan didn’t have a license to transport food waste, and it’s illegal to feed animal products to livestock. (Rob Townsend, Recycling Coordinator and truck driver at the time recalled picking out a chuck of ham, still wrapped in foil, from the pile he dumped for the pigs. “I remember thinking ‘this doesn’t seem quite right…’” Townsend said.) The Department of Agriculture shut the program down and FacMan and Dining Services had to reevaluate.  

Another FacMan intern, Monica Cooper K ’13, created an on-campus composting program for living learning houses in 2012. She provided each house with a bucket to separate their food waste from the rest of their garbage. Vegetable and fruit scraps, grains, coffee grounds and eggshells could be deposited in these buckets - no meat or dairy products. Every Sunday, she picked up the buckets and left empty ones. She dumped the food scraps in the structure she built behind the living learning houses in the grove. Since the program has expanded to off-campus houses and coffee services on campus, FacMan built another structure to increase capacity.

Sammy takes a pitchfork to the pile, her long braid falling over her shoulder, sturdy tall frame bent in half. She pulls heaps off the top to mix in with the fresh scraps we’re about to add. Steam smelling of funky blue cheese rises from the depths. She explains the difficulty of getting the proportion of food waste, ‘brown matter’ (leaves, straw, or woodchips), and moisture. “Just trying to figure out what your compost recipe is takes a lot of work,” she says. “And when it’s not right it’s really obvious because it smells really bad.”

She continues pitchforking. Aerating, or ‘turning’, the pile increases the rate of decomposition, but too much oxygen will dry out the pile. Adequate moisture makes the nutrients in the organic matter available to the microorganisms. It’s a tricky balance, and the pressure’s on when an imbalance is so obvious and unpleasant to a passerby. The FacMan employees give her a hard time about the smell emitting from the Earth Tubs in the parking lot, a program she initiated in the spring of her sophomore year.

After research conducted through an independent study, Sammy and then-senior Alicia Pettys made a recommendation to the college on the best way to run an on-site composting program. They hoped to increase capacity to compost all pre and post-consumer food waste from the cafeteria.

As recommended, the college purchased two Earth Tubs from Green Mountain Technologies. The enclosed composting containers, about two times the size of a standard hot tub, power mix and aerate the food waste. According to the company’s website, they can shred and mix a ton or more of compost in 10-15 minutes.

“One of the tubs will take about three weeks worth of compost from the caf,” Manstrom said. “Then it takes two to three weeks to bake, then another four weeks to cure on the ground.”

Sammy has noticed that the majority of food waste on our campus is untouched food from the cafeteria kitchen. It’s a consistent challenge to provide meals for a varying number of students with varying tastes, and the tendency is to over-estimate so no one leaves the caf unsatisfied. That means a lot of perfectly edible food goes to waste. “One time I composted a whole bucket of just one rice dish,” Sammy said.

Other campuses in Michigan have student organizations dedicated to recovering and redistributing extra food from dining halls. At the University of Michigan, students have partnered with the national Food Recovery Network (FRN) to implement a food waste solution in five of their seven dining halls. FRN provides them with funding for freezers, the key appliance in food waste recovery. Cafeteria employees fill aluminum sheet pans with extra food from each meal. This food hasn’t gone out on the buffet in the dining hall; it could be an extra pan of lasagna, pot of soup, or platter of roasted vegetables. They slide the pans in the freezer for student volunteers to pick up the following day. Students take the pans of food to a local distribution organization, Food Gatherers, where it is weighed and distributed to one of 150 non-profits in Washtenaw County.

Though we’ve yet to devise a similar system on our campus, the composting program is an impactful, semi-solution.

The new composting program took a beating this winter; accumulated snow collapsed the tent that sheltered the tubs, and frigid temperatures inhibited the breakdown of the food waste. “I think we’ve got a couple more years to get it to run perfectly,” Manstrom said. The pulper – which ideally grinds the food and drains excess water – has hasn’t been functioning properly, so there’s been a slow start-up with the Earth Tubs this spring.

Dylan Polcyn, K’16, will be taking Sammy’s place in heading up the program next year. He plans to get more students involved through first-year forums and work to solidify a consistent system. “I want to make our presence known from the get go,” he said, “and really establish ourselves as a fixture on campus.”

Finished compost is available for campus community members. “Our idea was not to sell it,” Manstrom said, “but to provide compost for staff and neighbors to use on their gardens.” The first batch from the tubs was added to the soil in the landscaping around the Arcus Center during its construction last spring; a nice way to close the loop of the composting system.

Cooking Class 1: Sushi

            

          Eight gloved hands pull gobs of sticky rice from a container on the center of the table.

         “It should be about the size of a baseball,” Grace Chiang says, “But don’t pack it!”

         She uses her loosely formed rice ball to pick up a piece of nori and slams in on a saran-wrapped bamboo mat, spreading the rice in a uniform layer. She makes sure grains are pressed just off the edge of the rectangle of nori so they will stick and form a cohesive seam when rolled.

Last week, over 25 students squeezed around the island in the Arcus Center’s sleek kitchen to make sushi. Mina Chaing and Grace Yang, sisters-in-law and owners of Hunan Gardens, demonstrated the steps of the process from slicing the cucumbers to sprinkling toasted sesame seeds over the finished roll. Each participant assembled their own, customizing with spicy tuna, crab, or a heap of avocado.

Students proudly garnished their creations with ginger and wasabi (or what we think of as wasabi. In fact, most of the wasabi eaten outside of Japan is actually a mixture of horseradish, mustard and food coloring, which is, of course, cheaper to produce).

“There were so many people from different backgrounds [in the class],” senior Hang Nguyen said as she tucked in with chopsticks. “And I liked that we made a not American dish.”

          

Hunan Gardens, locations on West Main and Texas Corners, features Chinese, Thai and Taiwanese cuisine. The Chaing family, originally from Taiwan, moved to Kalamazoo from New York City in 1991 and started the restaurant in 1992.

Last year, Dining Services started purchasing sushi from the restaurant for the Richardson Room café. Grace Yang, and Jim and Mina Chiang donated their time and ingredients for Monday night’s class.

         The class was organized by staff at Dining Services (full disclosure: myself included) as the first of a potential series to be hosted in the Center’s space this quarter. In addition to bringing more local restaurant owners and chefs to campus, we hope to support student instructors as well. 

The Proof is in the Pasta

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Marc Vetri hustled the kids as they ambled in for their last cooking class yesterday at the Free Library of Philadelphia’s Culinary Literacy Center. As they slung down their backpacks and jackets, the spirit of competition permeated the room – the 18 students from Building 21 would put their cooking skills to the test to impress a panel of judges in the Final Throw Down.

There was no introduction and not a recipe in sight; the three teams got to work right away, preparing an appetizer and main dish they had conceptualized with one of the overseeing chefs last week. Carla Norelli, Vetri Program Manager, Joan Jablonoski, Vetri Program Coordinator, and Chef Marc Vetri helped facilitate each team of six.

This was the last class of a semester-long program for 18 freshmen at the new Building 21 high school. The summer before the school opened in 2014, the Vetri Foundation for Children developed a culinary arts curriculum for the school, including a class taught weekly by Marc Vetri. In addition to practicing general cooking skills, the students learned how to butcher a whole lamb and make pasta from scratch, and were taught the importance of utilizing locally grown produce.

Clearly, the students had learned a lot; their confidence was evident.

Kevin, on Norelli’s team, seasoned ground beef, added cheese, and formed it into small patties. “Then, when you bite into it, it’ll be all cheesy on the inside,” he told me, his eyes widening in anticipation.

Jablonoski’s team member Anass expertly chopped onions with ease, his left hand in the proper ‘bear claw’ position to protect his fingertips. He said he helps with cooking at home, and plans to make the fettuccini alfredo recipe he learned in the class for his family.

Other students worked expertly with the pasta making attachment on the KitchenAid – rolling out the dough, flouring it and pushing it through the roller slowly and evenly. The whole class had gotten a lesson in pasta the week before from the maestro himself, Marc Vetri, and were excited to incorporate it into their competition dishes.

As the dishes came together, the judges – Jeff Benjamin (co-founder of the Vetri Foundation), Hillary Van Anda (Building 21 science teacher), Tara Ranzy (Building 21 principal), and Liz Fitzgerald (Culinary Literacy Center specialist) – took their seats. They would evaluate each dish on taste, appearance/presentation, creativity, and professionalism.

Jablonoski’s team served first. The kids placed plates of buffalo chicken wontons with avocado sauce and scallions, homemade fettuccine with shrimp and scallop marinara sauce and a garlic toast in front of the judges.

“The scallop is cooked nicely; I like the spice,” Ranzy said.

“This tastes like that frozen Texas Toast that’s so delicious, but so bad for you! That’s impressive,” Fitzgerald commented.

The plates were cleared, making way for a Marc’s team’s dish – a cabbage roll with jerk chicken and curried rice and a hunk of Marc’s own special recipe cornbread, pasta salad, and a coconut pineapple smoothie. The students began snacking on leftovers as the judges wrote down their comments.

Norelli’s group served their sliders with gouda, sautéed mushrooms and caramelized onion, kale salad with homemade potato chips, and fresh-made linguini with spicy shrimp sauce.

“This is better than the kale salad I had for lunch today!” Van Anda exclaimed.

Much eating and little cleaning ensued as Benjamin tallied the points. Chef Vetri called everyone together for a few heartfelt ‘thank you’ speeches and, finally, the prize was revealed: gift certificates to Pizzeria Vetri and a free pass on the rest of the clean up.

The six kids on Norelli’s team whooped and threw their hands up when Benjamin announced their victory. “I was confident, but oh it feels good,” slider-master Kevin said.

Chef Vetri left satisfied, the students’ performance was evidence of all they had learned over the semester. They had been listening; the proof is in the pasta.

Guts in Buckets

“I’m a killer!” Cathy Stronjy’s voice shrieks through the phone. It’s two days before Thanksgiving: turkey execution day.

My mom’s on the phone with our neighbor and friend, coordinating our plans to help her slaughter the main feature of our Thanksgiving meal. “I don’t want you sweet beautiful people getting all bloody,” she protested to my mom’s insistence that we come to help.

“But you’re a sweet beautiful person too!” my mom said. No, Cathy’s a killer. 

Two hours later we walked onto the scene: a wooden table covered with a bloody scrap of gray plastic set up just outside the turkey coop. There were a lot of buckets - snow-covered white feathers sticking up out of one, scaly turkey legs in another, and two still-warm, pink birds submerged in water in another.

“You girls have good boots?” Cathy yelled as I walked up. She had the hose on full blast, dunking one of the turkeys in and out of the bucket, sloshing water and blood all over the snowy ground.

“I was hoping to get this a little cleaner for you guys,” Cathy said as she bent the stub of the neck towards her. I heard snaps and pops. Cathy looked up, “Don’t mess with me.”

We had missed the execution hour, but were just in time for de-feathering and pulling out the guts. I tried to be helpful, but ended up mostly watching (and cringing) with fascination. My mom and I pulled out stray feather needles while Cathy slit open the beast’s neck area to get at the innards. She stuck her hand in – no glove – and came out with the gizzard first. She plopped the liver, a deep smooth red, in a pot singing “Pateeeè!”  The heart was set aside to be boiled with lots of garlic and the rest – lungs, intestine, kidneys – spilled onto the turkey legs in the bucket.

“Now this is probably one of the weirdest things you’ll ever see,” Cathy said, picking up the gizzard and a knife. She carefully cut through the ‘seam’ in the blue-tinged organ, about the size of a grapefruit. She pulled apart the two halves, revealing a balloon like sac, plump with… I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what. “Is that poop?!” Cathy shook her head and punctured the sack. The splats resounding in the bucket changed to a tinkling as small stones poured out among masticated green roughage. The gizzard grinds the stones against the food the bird has ingested, aiding in digestion.

Apparently, if you do it well, the gizzard pouch pulls out very neatly in its own little wrapper. “My sisters and I used to sit around having gizzard peeling contests,” Cathy laughed, “Now is that hillbilly or is that hillbilly?”

After the turkeys cooled down in the snow on her porch we brought them in for a last once over. We peeled of the thin layer of skin membrane and pulled out a few more feather tips. Cathy stuck her hands underneath the skin up the back to stretch it out for us. “Now you can just slip the herbs and butter right in there!”

These were the third and fourth turkeys Cathy had butchered that day. “I just decided to be glad about doing this,” she said. She raised the turkeys for meat and they had a good happy life eating weeds out of her garden. She’s glad to be able to provide her family and friends with a good bird on Thanksgiving, and there’s just no reason to be sad about it.