Customer Reviews

The 100-Mile Diet: A Year of Local Eating

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100 Mile Diet is a candid portrayal of an ambitious couple who, during a twelve month period, strive to "do the right thing" ecologically by making every effort to consume food and beverages whose origins lie within 100 miles of where they are living at a point in time. Alisa Smith and James MacKinnon truly get back to the land, as they forage in the woods in British Columbia for mushrooms and other edible flora, cart their raw materials back to their humble, television-free log cabin, and prepare, cook and eat their meals.

This high level of vertical integration, in which the couple all but abandon the outputs of big agribusiness, results in food procurement and preparation becoming, at the very minimum, a part-time job. In other words, the current state of affairs in North America make such a lifestyle virtually unsustainable; at the end of the year of eating locally, the authors relish the prospect of eating food that is either heavily processed or comes from far away.

The authors make a valiant effort to locally source key foodstuffs such as fish and flour. They discover that it is often frustratingly difficult to meet such needs locally. The authors' year-long local eating experiment includes many stressful periods, as the couple debate food gathering and preparation options; for them, it is not a matter of just pulling a Swanson dinner out of the freezer and slapping it in the microwave.

North America has dumbed down its diet to an unnecessarily narrow variety of choices, thanks largely to industrial agriculture. Much of our mainstream `normal' diet consists of corn, tomatoes, wheat, apples and potatoes. These items are great in and of themselves, but the authors remind us that there are hundreds of types of vegetables and fruit indigenous to North America that, for the most part, consumers, and the industry that feeds them, choose to ignore.

The book is entertaining, informative and inspiring. It touches on both practical and philosophical issues. For example, one might intend to eat eggs that were laid by a local hen. Beyond this, one could `swim upstream' and inquire as to where the hen was born. Even if the hen was born and raised locally, what does one do if one discovers that the feed consumed by the chicken comes from far away? Does eating these eggs constitute `eating locally'? The authors allow that such analysis may border on the absurd, but these are fair questions nevertheless.

The food we North Americans eat exposes practical, philosophical and even political issues. Other things being equal, the decision to eat locally results in food having a lower carbon price tag (it took less fuel to ship it to the consumer), and often supports local farmers. However, if one has the choice of local celery grown with the help of pesticides versus organic celery that took a two thousand mile truck trip to get to your store, what do you do? Further, what if the local celery is available free of packaging, whereas the organic celery is sold in a plastic bag that took fossil fuels to produce, and will take over 100 years to biodegrade? This celery scenario is one our family faces quite often, regrettably. We usually do the politically correct thing and support the local farmer who uses pesticides to grow his celery, and forego the more healthful organic celery that, unfortunately and perhaps ironically, comes with a heavy carbon price tag.

I recommend this book to anyone who is striving to eat in a way that minimizes the ecological footprint of one's dietary choices. The book raises as many questions as it does answers - it is not a `how to' book, nor does the book pretend to be such. If enough people read the book and start to demand that their grocery stores stock locally grown items, the planet, and we who inhabit it, might all be better off.

Is it possible to eat locally, and what would it be like? To answer that question, the authors embarked on an experiment: a year of local eating.

But why eat locally? The authors start with the obvious carbon-footprint reason - the 1,500 or more miles that a typical meal travels to our plates, a number only made possible by cheap oil. Other more subtle reasons quickly emerge, and much of the interest of the book comes from exploring these reasons.

The book is the product of two specific people, living and writing in a specific place. It is a personal narrative, and needed to be written in the first person. This is done by simply alternating perspective - first chapter MacKinnon, second chapter Smith, etc. It works, and is far preferable to the third person they resort to for the short epilogue, or a fused first person where "I" becomes meaningless. (Yes, I've seen it done.) The format is straightforward: a month-by-month diary. Food is shared with friends; family crises, work assignments and relationship troubles come when they will. All are woven into the story, all somehow adding to the themes of the book. Also added to the recipe is a significant amount of research and interview: scientists, farmers, fishers and natives are given a voice.

The specific place is Vancouver, on Canada's Pacific coast. European civilization came late to this region, and not all the changes to it's ecology have yet been forgotten. As a resident of the same city, my familiarity with the area certainly enhanced my enjoyment of the book. (But no, in case you're wondering, I don't know the authors.) However, readers in other parts of the world will be compensated with the challenge of thinking about what constitutes local eating for their region, and how the experiment would be easier, more difficult, or otherwise different for them.

There are no villains in this book. The authors tell us how things are, and what they can learn of how they were. The reader is left to ponder the role of industrial food producers, governments, oil companies - and us, the consumers. The authors are conducting an experiment, not trying to form a new religion. 100 miles was their definition of local, not the only one. One chocolate bar or one working lunch at a Thai restaurant does not send them (or you) to hell. They don't claim it's easy for city-dwellers to eat locally today - they describe the challenges as well as the pleasures and possibilities. (Just because a species doesn't grow here, doesn't mean it can't.) They don't tell you that you have to do what they did (and let's face it, not everybody has their commitment, resourcefulness or culinary skill), but they do give you reasons why you might aspire to. They don't claim that everyone in Vancouver, or the rest of the world, could switch to a 100-mile diet overnight. The point is that they did it, and they wrote a book with the power to make you think.

By choosing to embark on their adventure, the authors have explored a parallel universe of local eating. By writing about it, and with with such skill, humour, intelligence and accessibility, they have become our guides to that possible universe. In the words of my university's PhD regulations, they have made a "contribution to knowledge". They deserve our thanks.

I followed the original serial of articles in the Tyee (an online newspaper) and felt that the premise behind the 100 mile diet is in itself inherently flawed.

Notwithstanding that you can in fact eat everything you need from what Nabhan dubbed your local foodshed, it ignores the reality that the vast majority of people don't have the time and effort available to them to make this plan work. Further, if the entire population of Greater Vancouver made this switch, it cannot be sustained. And that is its fundamental failing.

While the authors are very engaging and their story is very well told, a far better book, in my opinion, is "Coming Home to Eat" by Gary Paul Nabhan. He too writes about his eating experiences over the course of a year, but has a much more realistic view.

For one thing, Nabhan, who lives in Arizona, uses a 400 mile radius for his foodshed, which for Vancouverites would allow the cattle from the interior, the wines from the Okanagan, and a much broader array of fresh produce - the weekly Farmer's Markets in Vancouver provide a huge bounty of fresh fruits and vegetables that for the most part simply do not grow in Vancouver.

For another, Nabhan further allows 1 out of 5 things to come from outside the radius; Nabhan rightly recognizes that not everything can (or even should) be supplied locally. Even the ancient Greeks traded olive oil for wheat across the Mediterranean basin.

I respect the authors' point of view, and strongly endorse the concept of seasonal, local, and fresh. However, no matter how engaging their story is, it's unfortunately not a workable idea. Nabhan's is.

Great book realistically detailing the ups and downs of living the 100-mile diet. Its encouraged me to eat local where I can, but does not make me feel guilty for NOT eating local when it doesn't work for me. Great companion book to "Locavore" which I am also reading right now.

Great read for anyone interested in local eating or wondering what it's all about. Authors trace their own journey over a year of 100% local eating and give lots of information along the way. This book is a reminder that local eating is not only very possible, but highly rewarding.

In the 100-Mile Diet, a Vancouverite couple endeavour to source their diet within a hundred miles of their apartment for one year. Along with mouth-watering descriptions of meals that they cook and share with their family and friends, the book documents with humour their trials and results of sticking to this strict yet inspiring diet.

As they discover locally harvested foods unknown to them before such as spotted prawns and pumpkin honey, they become familiar with food producers in the Greater Vancouver Region and learn about its surprisingly diverse food industry. Through these discoveries, they reflect on their ties to others, including their relationship with each other, and affirm that local eating is an act that nourishes not only their lives but also their communities.

The book also touches on the downside of the global food industry such as the hidden environmental cost of shipping food across thousands of miles and the demise of small-scale farmers pitted against agricultural corporations. Showing the possibility of local eating, the book encourages the reader to live a rich, delicious life.

I loved this book! Well written, funny, thought provoking - and all without being holier than thou. I have recommended it to many, and now find myself checking all food sources - just why does our food have to travel so far, hmmm?

This very personal account is a very inspiring and motivational book. While reading this, I couldn't stop telling people about the ideas, the stories and the passion of what i was reading. I checked the local farm market schedule midway through the book and am very excited to be going this week.

I think some other people are missing the point. This book isn't trying to convert everyone to a local diet. They don't always make the most environmentally friendly decisions, but it's the connection with the food and where it comes from, that's what is the moral of this story.

Between knowing your own fisherman, to making your own salt... to just knowing the season of what is fresh and local. The simple concept of 'who knows what asparagus season is' hit home... and I immediately downloaded the local crops information.

Too often, we are trying to cut spending and we hurt for it. Paying good money for good food is something definately worthwhile. I'm not going to pickle my vegetables, and live on beets for the winter... but it's a story that really makes me question what I'm eating, and where it comes from.

Consequently, I haven't been to a fast food place since reading this. Much better of an argument for me than fast food nation, or supersize this. The was truly a gem.

I have only read exerpts and reviews, but from these I can say -- without a doubt -- that these two authors have crafted a seriously engaging, entertaining, and fascinating account of their year eating locally. I can't wait to get a copy and really dig in. Full disclosure: I've known and worked on-and-off with JB MacKinnon for about 5 years now, and I'm infinitely impressed with his storytelling and ability to craft sensational reads.

The trend towards local food, towards taking care of our planet by taking care of where our meals come from is probably one of the most important of this generation. And in Alisa and JB, you couldn't find more fitting or inspiring protagonists.