Turkey gumbo: the Thanksgiving centerpiece finds its true calling. All photos by April McGreger

Before accepting a Thanksgiving dinner invitation, I ask my host two questions: Will you be roasting a turkey and may I have the leftover carcass? The best part of the Thanksgiving turkey has long been about leftovers for me, but a few years ago I upgraded from mundane turkey sandwiches to the exceptional turkey bone gumbo.

I have long been a fan of wild-duck gumbo, but the first that I heard of turkey bone gumbo was from my friend Sara Roahen, who devotes a whole chapter to it in her charming book about living and eating in New Orleans, Gumbo Tales. The idea appealed to both my thriftiness and to my holiday homesickness. The first year that I made the gumbo was the first year that I bought a heritage-breed turkey. Whereas the carcasses of previous Thanksgiving birds at my parents’ house had ended up in the trash, I had paid a small fortune for this bird and was determined to get every bit of use from it that I could. Making a gumbo from the leftover bird seemed a lot more exciting than just a simple turkey stock. Heritage breed birds have a richer, fuller flavor and make wonderful soups, so making gumbo turned out to be a perfect use for the leftovers.

Making gumbo is also huge part of who I am. I grew up at the northern end of the gumbo belt, and I got my first lesson in making a roux in college from my friend’s mother in her Baton Rouge home. I also got copies of both Marcelle Bienvenu’s charming Who’s Your Mama? Are you Catholic? And Can You Make a Roux? and Paul Prodhomme’s resourceful Louisiana Kitchen during those years and began my own gumbo making efforts in earnest. Gumbo eating was a year round affair, but the holidays were a particularly fruitful time. After our college holiday breaks, students from the Gulf South would show up with a gallon or two of their mama’s gumbo and invite everyone they knew over for a feast. There is nothing quite like a bowl of steaming gumbo and good friends on a cold winter night.

I now live far outside of gumbo territory, but I still like to make it every chance I get. There is nothing inherently difficult about making gumbo, but for some reason, it is extremely difficult to find a good bowl of it outside of the Gulf South. For that reason, I see myself as a gumbo ambassador to the Up South and beyond. I am looking forward to making a delicious turkey bone gumbo for friends who are gathering in D.C. this weekend to celebrate Thanksgiving together.

You won’t roux the day. Before you make your gumbo, I feel it’s important to tell you a bit about this epic dish. It is a stew popular in Louisiana and the Gulf South whose name most likely comes from the Central African Bantu word for okra, gombo. There are as many different gumbos as there are cooks. Most start with a roux but there are exceptions. Some contain okra, particularly seafood gumbo. Some contain the Choctaw Indian file powder, or ground sassafras, particularly wild game gumbos. It is usually served with rice and sometimes, peculiarly over potato salad.

If you’ve never made gumbo, it’s actually very simple. You should allow a relaxing 4 hours to make your first gumbo and enlist your friends or family to help with the chopping. I like to break this prep time up by getting my chopping and turkey stock making done early in the day, then allowing just a couple of hours in the evening to make them gumbo. A nice bottle of wine helps, too. Gumbo can be thought of in three parts: the roux, the seasonings, and the stock.

Stir the pot: gumbo’s holy trinity of aromatic seasonings. The roux is usually what intimidates people from trying to make gumbo, but it is actually quite simple. It is just a paste of flour and fat that is stirred constantly over heat until it browns. There are just two secrets to browning your roux without burning it: use a heavy-bottomed pot, and don’t stop stirring. There is a range of acceptable levels of of roux “brownness.”  Some recipes tell you to make a “red” roux, others say cook your roux until it’s the color of peanut butter, dark brown sugar, or as dark as coffee. Coffee-colored rouxs are intensely flavored and overpower subtle flavors like those of seafood, but go lovely with wild game or a richly flavored heritage turkey.

In gumbo-speak, seasonings include the holy trinity of vegetables: onion, green peppers, and celery. Sausage is also common—preferably a smoked andouille, but a good smoked country or garlic sausage makes a fine substitute. You should have all of your seasonings chopped and ready to go before you begin making your roux.

Your third component is the stock. Before making your stock, first pick off all of the bits of meat that you can from the carcass, and reserve for adding to the gumbo just before serving.  You will be pleasantly surprised by how much meat falls off the well-carved turkey while it is simmering. The bones and cartilage will make a very flavorful stock when slowly simmered.

So what are you waiting for? Get out your pots, gather your friends and family and start cooking!

Turkey Bone Gumbo
Roux:
1 cup fat—I used a combination of sunflower oil and lard from pasture-raised hogs
1 heaping cup all purpose flour

Seasoning vegetables & sausage:
1 ½ cups chopped celery
1 ½ cups chopped green pepper
3 cups chopped yellow or white onion
Salt
Black pepper
1 pound Andouille or country sausage, preferably smoked, cut into bite size pieces

Turkey & turkey stock:
Turkey carcass, picked of at much meat as possible and reserved
1 gallon water
3 Bay leaves
A pinch of cayenne
A handful of fresh thyme sprigs or a teaspoon of dried thyme
A handful of Parsley stems
1 onion, quartered, plus the skins from your chopped onion seasonings
1 carrot, cut into 1-inch chunks
2 stalks of celery, plus ends and pieces from your chopped celery seasonings
Ends and pieces from your chopped green pepper seasonings
A couple of smashed garlic gloves
1 tablespoon whole peppercorns
2 whole allspice berries, optional
A few drops of hot sauce
Several pinches of salt

To Finish:
1 cup chopped scallions, thinly sliced
1 cup chopped parsley
Buttered white rice
File powder, delicious, but optional
Hot sauce

1. First assemble all of your seasonings and have them at the ready and your stock well under way before you begin making your roux.
2. In a large stock pot, start your turkey stock. Your carcass needs to be fully submerged under water. It will likely be necessary to cut your carcass down the breast bone or into several pieces to make this happen. Bring the stock to a gentle boil, then turn down to a steady slow simmer and cook for about 2 hours. Taste stock for seasoning and add more salt if necessary. Remove the carcass from the stock and set aside to let cool. When cool enough to handle, meticulously pick the meat from it and set aside. Strain the stock and reserve.
3. Make your roux: In a large, heavy bottomed pot, heat your oil over medium to medium high heat. Whisk in your flour. Stir continuously (I really like my square-edged wooden spoon for this task) until your roux is the color of dark brown sugar or chocolate. This may take 45 minutes or more. Take turns stirring with your friends or family, but keep stirring. A burned roux is a sad, sad thing. If you are afraid that your roux is burning, turn down your heat.
4. Dump your vegetable seasonings - onion, celery, and green pepper- into your roux and stir.  Add a good pinch of salt and pepper and cook until wilted, about 5 minutes. Add your sausage and cook 5 minutes more.
5. Next whisk in gradually about 8 cups of stock. Bring to a simmer and cook uncovered for 1 ½ hours. Add your reserved turkey meat and simmer another 10 minutes then stir in your parsley and scallions. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper as desired. Serve over hot, buttered rice and pass the hot sauce and file powder at the table.

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This Friday, don’t just Buy Nothing—use nothing!

Can such a "turkey" make your holiday feast soar?Photo courtesy of Jason HoustonGiven the ire I provoked in last year's turkey column, it's high time that this Grist columnist acknowledges that:

A. Meat-centric holidays such as Thanksgiving can be challenging for vegetarians and evoke all kinds of emotions -- including, but not limited to, extreme irritation toward carnivores.

B. These carnivores are likely to get very defensive, harrassed by the guilty knowledge that even a heritage-breed, biodynamic, locally raised, and gently killed bird probably isn't as environmentally or morally justifiable as a plant-based meal -- even if that plant-based meal is highly processed, lavishly packaged, and distantly shipped.

C. Any moral high ground gained by having a plant-based Thanksgiving may become absolutely meaningless if you screw up a happy, festive experience with a protein centerpiece that looks gross, or worse yet, has a flavor capable of sending guests, carnivorous and non, in search of a Butterball.

These facts, combined with a directive from my boss, have led me into the world of fake turkey. (Oh, I do it all for you, dear reader!) I went looking for a turkey-like main course that could please vegetarians and flummox the carnivores who insist that all faux meat sucks. And so I assembled a broad panel of tasters: three former vegetarians (including me, a former Michio Kushi-worshipping macrobiotic), one devout carnivore, and one actual full-fledged vegetarian (15 years running). The panel also included four children, whose ages range from two to nine, and whose approaches to eating run from adventurous to upsettingly fussy. Together we sampled several seasonal faux turkey products to see if any could produce the happy, bloated contentment of holidays past, whilst simultaneously embracing the spirit of change, earth-friendliness, inter-species kindness, and so forth.

How'd we do? Read on.

Box-to-table dining. Photo courtesy of Jason HoustonTofurky Vegetarian Feast
Ingredients: Water, vital wheat gluten, organic tofu (water, organic soybeans, magnesium chloride, calcium chloride), white beans, garbanzo beans, non genetically engineered corn starch, natural vegetarian flavor, expeller pressed non genetically engineered canola oil, shoyu soy sauce (water, non genetically engineered soy beans, wheat, salt, culture), spices, lemon juice, calcium lactate from beets.
Price: $24.99 for a total of 3 lbs of food -- "turkey" plus sides -- from Whole Foods. Note: You can buy a single Tofurky roast, but I decided to splurge on the "feast," which for some odd reason included not only a Tofurky giblet (!) and mushroom gravy also but dumplings and a jerky wishbone. (Who says vegetarians don't have a sense of humor!)

Tasters were not sure whether to be comforted or disturbed by the fact that this product had a skin, which one taster described as smelling like "art class." All tasters struggled for texture descriptors for Tofurky (motto: "America's Leading Turkey Alternative Since 1995"), but the most evocative was "squeaky on the teeth." Two tasters described the taste as bologna-like and most concurred that this "bird" was salty. Strangest overall comment: "Carp would love this." The most backhanded compliment came out of the mouth of a babe, who, to the chagrin of her parents, exclaimed "It tastes like McDonald's Chicken McNuggets, and I like those!"

Nothing says Turk'y like a box. Quorn Turk'y Roast
Ingredients: Mycoprotein (58%), rehydrated egg white, pea fiber. Contains 2% or less of autolyzed yeast extract, onion powder, tapioca and potato maltodextrin, natural flavor from non-meat sources, salt, dextrose, gum arabic, calcium lactate, sage extract, canola oil, citric acid, garlic powder, pepper, sunflower & palm kernel oil
Price: $8.59 for 16 oz roast at my local grocery store

This product came highly recommended from Steven, the frozen foods manager at my favorite grocery store who also happens to be a bona fide vegetarian. Indeed, our panel's own vegetarian taster admitted that she ate it "voluntarily" and deemed it the most turkey-like, juicy, and "pure." The devoted carnivore, meanwhile, agreed it was turkey-like, but added that it was "dry, like an over-cooked turkey breast." Overall, the group applauded Quorn's un-stuffed, putty-colored honesty: As one taster put it, "It's not trying too hard to be turkey." Tellingly, this was the only faux turkey product that the kids wanted more of, asserting that it tasted either like chicken, or, weirdly, like pizza. Thank god they didn't know it was largely made from fungus.

Full disclosure: The cooking directions called for this roast called for it to be cooked in its plastic "film." There was no way in hell I was going to heat food in plastic, so I wrapped it snugly in aluminum foil. If this compromised the taste or texture in any way, we were none the wiser.

How much will you give me to try this? Field Roast Celebration Roast
Ingredients: Filtered water, vital wheat gluten, expeller pressed safflower oil, naturally flavored yeast extract, barley malt, butternut squash, organic wheat flour, granulated garlic, apples, mushrooms, onion powder, garlic organic wheat flakes, yellow pea flour, lemon juice, red wine, tomato paste, irish moss (sea vegetable) extract, black pepper, rubbed sage, rosemary, spices, natural liquid smoke and paprika.
Price: $7.99 for 1lb roast at Whole Foods

Though it's maketed as a "roast," the manufacturer lists steaming as a method for getting this fist-sized, squarish product ready for the table. I associate the holidays with roasting, but got over my cultural baggage and gave steaming a try. The method wins points for quickness and ease -- but probably didn't help this product's texture, which inspired descriptions like "unfortunate" and was compared to rubber, cement, and -- oxymoronically -- "dried pudding." More than one taster declared its flavor spicy. More specifically, tasters said it was like "Vegeroni" or "varnished pine." The most damning comment came from a kid who said, "I would eat this for $10."

What's that in the middle?!Gardein Stuffed Turk'y Roast
Ingredients: Water, soy protein, vital wheat gluten, bread crumbs (enriched wheat flour (niacin, reduced iron, thiamine mononitrate, riboflavin, folic acid)), dehydrated cranberries, natural flavors (from plant sources), modified vegetable gum, potato starch, long grain white rice, wild rice, expeller pressed canola oil and/or safflower oil, dehydrated onion and garlic, parsley flakes, spices, pea protein, carrot fiber, organic beet root fiber, organic evaporated cane juice, sea salt. Breading: modified corn starch, modified wheat starch, corn flour, wheat flour, sugar, toasted wheat crumbs, wheat gluten, sea salt, sugar, garlic powder, spice, onion powder, sunflower oil, dextrose, guar gum, yeast, extractives of paprika, caramel color.
Price: Time for a "full disclosure." I couldn't find this product at my local grocery stores or the nearest urban Whole Foods (where it is allegedly found, seasonally), so I had to call up its Canadian producer and ask for some. I don't normally like to take freebies because I think they compromise journalists, but I was in a jam and there you have it. Oh, and they sent me some chicken-y items, too, that we didn't have the time or room to taste. Truth be told, after just four veggie products, my panel was pissing and moaning and very ready for pie to be served. (Btw: It was this pie, made freshly by the Devout Carnivore.) In any case, the suggested retail is $3.99 per individual Gardein Stuffed Turk'y Roast.

Although this product looked like a "dog treat," as one taster aptly put it, it was the runner-up to the Quorn roast, at least for the adult tasters who almost unanimously found the taste to be smoky or hot-dog like. Most laudatory comment: "Nice crunchy coating." Most frustrated: "What the f**k is in the middle?" It fared dramatically worse with the kids, who reacted to it with terrible faces. One child, perhaps owing to the fact that bedtime was approaching and dessert had not yet been served, even threw her chunk onto the floor and wailed that it tasted like "rotten eggs."

All's well that ends well. Photo courtesy of Jason HoustonOne more disclosure: I also ordered a Stuffed Faux Turkey Breast from Café Indigo to see if a local (New England, in my case) and more boutique product ($25 plus shipping) was somehow tastier. But because of a shipping snafu, this banana bread look-alike seitan "breast" did not arrive in time for the group tasting and therefore did not have the benefit of an expert wine-lit panel. But I will say this about it: Seitan products are all more alike than they are different. They tend to be chewy and, at least to me, they all smell like bullion.

The Bottom Line: Do not, under any circumstances, let your dinner guests see any faux turkey products in pre-presentation form. Use the time-honored technique for overcooked real turkeys: Serve it sliced and attractively fanned out, smothered with gravy and cranberry sauce, presented to appropriately hungry diners whose palates have been primed by way too much Beaujolais Nouveau. In that spirit, consider the unpretentious and affordable Quorn roast. Otherwise, consider starting an entirely new tradition, one that skips highly processed and packaged food products and bases the entire meal on, say, homemade pie. There's a new Thanksgiving tradition I'm sure vegetarians and carnivores could all agree on.

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Send your question to Umbra!

Q. Dear Umbra,

I am worried that your hotness may be contributing to global warming. I'm not sure what can be done to fix this.

O Zone

A. Dearest O,

You are making me blush. But I am using your letter as a springboard to report some exciting news: In an effort to make my operations more energy-efficient, I am combining my previous twice-weekly column into one weekly, multi-question column. Experts say the shift will result in 26 fewer milligrams of carbon emitted each week. I'll also be popping up in other places on Grist during the week now, and asking you dearest readers for more input. So keep the questions, suggestions, and blush-inducing compliments coming -- we'll lick this climate thing yet.

Efficiently,
Umbra

Q. Dear Umbra,

What is the most effective thing each of us can do over the next six weeks to help stop global warming?

Ned T.
Columbia, Md.

A. Dearest Ned,

I assume your six-week timeframe is pinned on the Copenhagen climate conference, to which we are all looking with bright eyes and big hopes. My advice for the interim is two-pronged: first, pledge to make one change in your own life that will reduce your energy use. Because I'm getting in the holiday spirit, I'll even say changing one light bulb counts, though I'd like to see you take some bigger steps as well. Second, but only because I couldn't blurt both ideas at once: Contact your representatives and senators. Tell them you support the passage of strong climate legislation, and tell them Obama would be insane not to go to Copenhagen. Tell them if they don't do something about climate change immediately, you are going to distribute photographs of them in compromising positions. We all know you don't possess any such photographs, but that sort of threat will always send a shiver down a politician's spine. When it comes to the climate crisis, we are no longer above such maneuvers.

Shiveringly,
Umbra

Q. Dear Umbra,

Do you have any recommendations on how to make the annual corporate 'gift basket' sustainable, yet memorable?

Erin K.
Portland, Ore.

A. Dearest Erin,

Want not, waste not.Good for you for thinking about how to make this consumption-y tradition more sustainable. The obvious choice, of course, would be to forgo the gift basket entirely. Can you get away with that at your company? Why not send your supporters and customers a gift certificate for a nice meal, instead, or donate to a worthy non-profit organization in their name. It seems to me that, in an age when 83 percent of people report receiving gifts they don't want, the corporate gift basket has run its course. However, if you absolutely must dole out tangible items, see if you can draw any inspiration from our list of creative green gift basket ideas. If all else fails and a more traditional basket is required, make sure you are thoughtful about choosing local, sustainable products. You live in a land of good cheese, beer, and wine, so it shouldn't be hard.

Scroogily,
Umbra

Q. Dear Umbra,

Can I recycle my receipts? I'm worried that the type of paper they're printed on will contaminate the regular paper I'm recycling.

BadRabbit
Richmond, Va.

A. Dearest Bad,

What a good question as we approach Holiday Shopping Madness. I can say with nearly 100 percent confidence that you cannot recycle your receipts -- at least, those printed on thermal paper, which is the sort of shiny, sheeny paper that faxes used to arrive on. (Remember faxes?) However, as with all such "can I recycle this or that" questions, I'll advise you to doublecheck with your municipality. Two more things on the receipt front, one creepy, one promising. The creepy one is that some receipts are coated with BPA, the estrogen-mimicking chemical found in baby bottles and can linings. At present, the best advice for avoiding this form of BPA exposure seems to be to decline receipts when you can, and wash your hands after handling them when you can't. Now for the more promising news: I've been hearing about a business model in which you, the customer, can associate your debit card with an e-mail account and request digital receipts, so instead of ending up with a pocket full of non-recyclable thermal paper, you end up with an inbox full instead. Many people seem to be trying this notion, but I have not located one good, central resource that's figured out how to get it up and running -- readers, any insights?

Totally,
Umbra

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Send your question to Umbra!

Q. Hi Umbra,

Do you have any suggestions for an environmentally friendly Halloween treat, and something that parents won't worry about?

Thanks,
Kim W.
Ann Arbor, Mich.

A. Dearest Kim,

Or there's the ever-popular "hot mama Earth" costume.Grist TVWe've said lots about Halloween over the years, but there's always more to say. Which is why I dug your letter out of the e-mail archives to suit my needs. Will my ghoulish charm convince you to overlook that haunting maneuver? This year, I've found a new list of non-food items for trick-or-treaters, and I'm ready for the 2009 Climate Change Costume Closet.

I have made alterna-candy suggestions before, and now I've discovered the Green Halloween non-food treat list, which includes basic but brilliant ideas such as acorns, Band-Aids, polished rocks, and whistles (and also strange things such as recycled glass tiles). We also have a handy how-to guide to greening the rest of the holiday, and of course costume suggestions by moi.

This year's costume suggestions focus less on witty and sexy (yep, that CFL costume got us all some action) in order to reflect the seriousness of the climate situation and, perhaps more important, remind people that there is a climate situation. In all fairness, I do feel that the Health Care Debate offers richer costume possibilities than the Climate Debate. But Tea Party activists and a rabid Fox are good costumes that can lead to conversations about either hot political topic.

Here are my as usual brilliant ideas (some supplied by friends and family), sure to offer all of us a brief chance for informative conversation with a baffled co-Halloweener. You know, like a more-likely-to-occur elevator pitch.

High Albedo: A shiny, shiny costume, which could integrate silver lame, a silver umbrella, silver boots, a space blanket, or all white items along the same lines. When they ask what you are, you say something along the lines of, "I'm albedo, you know, highly reflective like the melting ice caps." You may want to research and rehearse your response to make it less awful than that.

Kerry-Boxer: Just you and a friend dressed up like John Kerry and Barbara Boxer -- or you dressed up like John Kerry wearing boxing gloves -- armed with talking points about why your Senate Climate bill is important. This costume will work best if -- well, if you can look like the two of them, first of all, but also if you are able to inhabit your role and take on a politician's earnest enthusiasm. Then, you'll be able to trap your questioner with a barrage of helpful information about the vital importance of an effective climate bill. Say their name repeatedly and touch them on the upper arm several times in a comradely way.

Waxman-Markey: Kerry-Boxer for the advanced costumer. Does anyone know what these two guys look like?

Homeless Polar Bear: Sad, but true.

Fundraising Maldivian: Dressed in summery clothing, with a sign and a jar, asking for donations toward resettlement since your home is about to be underwater. If Halloween weather does not prohibit being damp, be damp.

Wind Turbine: Body is pole, turbine is atop head. ‘Nuf said.

The Atmosphere: Probably best as a group costume in which each member chooses an atmospheric component, with most going as carbon dioxide, methane, water vapor, etc. Do not be scientifically correct in proportioning the number of carbon equivalent costumes. When individual members of the atmosphere are questioned, say something like, "I'm methane, part of the atmosphere [point to other group members]. I'm small but influential, and I can really mess those guys up." If the questioner looks askance or seems doubtful, start muttering about extreme weather events coming to the party soon.

Cap and Trade: I can't quite figure this one out, other than a vague and unsatisfying idea involving swapping piles of hats. The person who does pull it off in a clever way deserves some kind of award. Keep us posted.

Happy Halloween, everyone!

Affectionately,
Umbra

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Halloween is almost upon us! Still stumped about the best way to decorate your premises for this spookiest of holidays? We have here a set of six Grist-exclusive patterns to help you carve the perfect eco-pumpkin. Each pattern comes with instructions. Just click on your favorite, print the PDF, sharpen your knife, and get to it.

Then all you’ll have left to do is choose the perfect costume. (Don’t go as Bill McKibben, you’ll steal our thunder.)

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Obama administration officials grateful for early spring

Islam is green by nature, and Ramadan offers a chance to make a big impact.Shawna AyoubAfter my grandfather had a stroke, the doctor said he might not walk again. He also said that getting him to challenge himself -- to give walking a true try -- was critical to his physical and emotional recovery. My grandfather took his first steps only a week after the near total paralysis of his left side.

While he never regained his easy gait, he also never let his slow, strained shuffle hinder him. Mornings, he made ten laps back and forth on the Lebanese mountain road outside the gates of his house. When I visited Lebanon, I walked with him, helping him stoop and clear the trash -- plastic bags, Pepsi bottles, paper, cigarette butts -- that passersby had tossed out their windows onto the road. It was close to the time Jiddo died that I learned clearing the roads wasn't so much a physical exercise as a spiritual one.

The responsibility Muslims hold in man's divinely bestowed role as the world's vicegerents extends to the planet's health. We know that removing litter from the road is considered an Islamic charity (Sahih AlJumea). We also know that God loves those who do not waste (Qur'an 7:31). In fact, Muslims are specifically commanded to eat fruit in its season and refrain from wasting the goods from this earth (6:141). Multiple examples from the life of the Prophet Muhammad (ahadith), peace and blessings be on him, instruct us to conserve water, avoid overeating, and care for animals and plants in need.

Islam is by its nature a "green" religion -- and Ramadan, the Islamic month during which fasting is prescribed for all able Muslims, offers a chance for the 1.2 billion of us worldwide to make a huge and hugely positive environmental impact.

There is more to a Ramadan fast than abstention from food, drink, and sex during the daylight hours. An Islamic fast also requires the participant to refrain from angry activities and discourse, and good deeds are strongly encouraged. The standard for good deeds is that they be charitable in nature, such as feeding the poor and taking care of orphans. Ramadan is capped off with a community-oriented feasting day called Eid al Fitr during which an obligatory tax (zakat) is collected that is redistributed to the needy.

While there is no disputing the social and economic value of feeding the hungry and nursing the sick during this holy month, it is just as important that we remember to take care of the world for which we are the inheritors.

Simply by not overeating before or after our fast, we can contribute to global health -- and our own. In a recent article for the Washington Post, Zafar Nomani, professor emeritus of human nutrition and foods at West Virginia University, noted that, "During Ramadan, research has shown that the basal metabolism of fasting subjects slows down. A person can stay healthy and active during Ramadan consuming a diet that is less than the normal amount of calories or food intake but balanced in nutrients."

Even if only 50 percent of the estimated 7 million Muslims living in the United States fast during Ramadan, if that fast eliminates our weekly cheeseburger (or meat and rice equivalent) and we do not over consume to compensate for a missed meal, that means the American Muslim community could reduce U.S. CO2 output by 60,900 metric tons during Ramadan alone. That's the equivalent annual CO2 output of 6,090 SUVs!

Further, we often pay attention to how our meat is slaughtered with little or no regard to how it was raised. Many local farms allow us to do our own slaughtering on their premises. This gives us a choice come Eid, when ritual animal sacrifices are made and the meat shared out to our neighbors and the poor. We can elect to purchase our animals (and vegetables) from farms that use sustainable agricultural methods. We may pay a slight premium, but isn't it worth it if, when we go before God on the Last Day, among our deeds it will be recorded that we chose from the animals that were responsibly and compassionately raised to offer as our sacrifice?

Go ahead -- start small.Shawna AyoubWhat else can you do? Begin with the next fast-breaking dinner (iftaar) you host or attend. Collect recyclables such as soda cans and plastic bottles and drop them off at your local recycling center. Choose reusable dishes instead of disposables. If you're attending a nightly community dinner at a mosque, set up a dishwashing schedule that will let your Muslim brothers and sisters rake in the blessings by pitching in once a week.

While you're at it, set up a Freecycle-style program for Eid gifts that allows community members to exchange goods or gently used toys. Not only will you save money that can later be donated to the poor, you will avoid buying new items that can be toxic for the planet and for your health. Encourage your community to get educated and organized in order to contribute, perhaps by planting an organic vegetable garden on the mosque lawn.

If you aren't fasting or have no local community, you can still chip in. Walk to the mosque for prayers (and gain rewards) or carpool when you travel. Consider putting in some time at a soup kitchen or homeless shelter. You could even donate some of your time to the Humane Society. You can join groups such as Green Ramadan that have popped up online with the goal of a global green effort for one month each year.

Like my grandfather, we can all do our part in a small way. Each individual act is like a pebble in a pond that sends out ten ripples. Who knows how far those miniature waves will reach or what good they may carry?

Ramadan is a month of hyperawareness achieved through the challenges of the body in order to strengthen the soul. Every good deed is one that contributes to this renewal. And each one can contribute to the renewal of our planet, too, whether your efforts are individual or communal.

There are still plenty of blessed days left this Ramadan. Challenge yourself and strengthen your soul, and by doing so, earn the rewards of the next life. Make this Ramadan your greenest ever.

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Turn your turkey carcass into a spectacular gumbo

Sketches of ideas for the JP Green House exterior all include banners, signs, and flags at our request. This reflects our plan to unearth the former corner store that used to be housed in the "flatiron" triangular building. It's also a means of advertising our demonstration project and a good fit with our civic purpose, to serve as a community center and climate campaigning "hub" for 350.org.

The kids will enjoy making their own banners as well -- indeed, their after-camp project today is to design a poster for the JP Green House Kids' $5 Lemonade Stand & Mini-Toboggan Run/Water Slide planned for the weekend. Andrée and I have cautioned that they may not see many takers at that price, but I forget that five dollars isn't quite the grand sum it was when I was a kid.

As in this early sketch by neighborhood architects Bill MacIlroy and Nancy Shapiro, we plan to have a couple of flag poles above a storefront sign, with banners on each side and a neighborhood bulletin board.

But what flag or flags to fly?

JP Green House exterior design concept showing U.S. and Earth flags.Bill MacIlroy and Nancy ShapiroFlag-flying, like bumper stickers, is an expression of personality and identity, which also, in the aggregate, helps define a community. The journey from Jamaica Plain to Roslindale (the JP Green House sits smack on the line between these two Boston neighborhoods) is marked by a decline in rainbow flags and Tibetan prayer banners and an upsurge of shamrocks and American flags.

It has always struck me that the liberal/progressive rejection of the American flag (traceable to anti-Vietnam protests, I assume) has had a subtle but nonetheless powerful impact on U.S. politics. Refusal to show the flag is an eloquent expression of deep ambivalence toward America and a huge boon for conservatives and the Republican Party. It was a move of genius for the Obama campaign to employ a logo that evokes the flag, yet subverts the formula by dropping stars and choosing slightly off-true colors.

At this moment in history, facing immediate crises and the looming weight of climate cataclysm, I think it's time to reclaim our flag as a symbol of national bonds stronger then partisanship, as an affirmation of those parts of the American character on which we must rely if we are to face the terrible danger before us, and as an expression of the true, lasting, and revolutionary founding principles of the nation.

On this Fourth of July, we will proudly fly the American flag at the JP Green House ... right next to a bold banner proclaiming "$5 Lemonade." What could be more American?

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When it comes to eco-parenting, mothers tend to get the spotlight—everything from cultural references (Mother Earth and Mother Nature, anyone?) to marketing blitzes (hello, Big Green Purse!). But there are plenty of fathers out there doing their part for both progeny and planet. We showcase a few of them here, including our own Grist staff dads.

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Aim high.With Father’s Day looming, it’s my duty to come up with related content on Grist, and I’ve been giving a lot of thought to how we should best mark the occasion. A list of eco-friendly gift ideas? Nah, we did that last year—plus with all the other lists of eco-friendly Father’s Day gifts out there, that’s getting almost as stale as the classic tie-or-hankie conundrum anyway.

Maybe a round-up of our parenting advice? Like our Ask Umbra columns on diaperless parenting and the never-ending diaper ado and recycling car seats. Or our whole special series on parenting and health. Or Richard Louv’s tips for how to start a neighborhood nature club.

Or perhaps it would be best to highlight some of the fatherhood-related pieces we’ve had from guest contributors—like Marcelo Bonta’s reflection on his daughter and the diversity (or lack thereof) of the green movement; or John Kurmann’s struggles with whether to have children; or A. Carl Leopold’s memories of life with his famous father, Aldo.

But then I came across a piece our own David Roberts wrote last year. A piece he headlined—out of modesty, crabbiness, or because he was in a rush—“Ramblings for Father’s Day.”

I missed the piece when it first appeared—perhaps because I was editing twelve other things and just didn’t see it fly by, perhaps because I was a month away from the birth of my own first child and caught up in that. But I believe it deserves a re-airing. If I were to indulge in my own ramblings about why, you’d think I was trying to butter Dave up for something. So I’ll let (some of) it speak for itself:

The multi-billion-dollar parenting industry wants you to think that parenting is complex and technical and that you need expert advice to handle it. But I’ve discovered that it’s fairly simple. I’ve unlocked the grand secret. Are you ready? Here it goes:

If you want to be a good parent, be a good person.

There you have it. Children will model their lives on the lives they see. So model a good life.

Terrifying, right? Warming the diaper wipes is one thing, but living a good life? Being a good person? Who knows how to do that?

But there’s no way around it. You can tell them to manage anger constructively. You can tell them not to take more than their fair share. You can tell them that all people, even those most pitiable or aggravating, deserve empathy and respect. You can tell them that they should own their feelings and not be afraid or ashamed to express them. You can tell them that kindness is not weakness and that love can move mountains.

But if you react to your own anger with yelling or violence; if you hoard and begrudge resources; if you insult or berate others; if you are insensitive to those you love; if you bottle up your own feelings or attack perceived weaknesses in others—if you do that stuff, that’s what they do.

There’s more where that came from—and it’s the best “eco” advice you’ll get this Father’s Day. Go read it.

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Take a bite out of summer.It’s Memorial Day weekend! Say hello to the long, hot days of summer and goodbye to all the rest. However you celebrate this seasonal turning point, we’ve got advice for making it just a bit greener.

First, we hoist the flag with Umbra, who tells us how to be proud patriots 24 hours a day.

Now for the juicy stuff: Planning a cookout? Check out Umbra’s quick ‘n’ easy advice on eco-friendly grilling (quicker still: chuck the charcoal) and these illuminating BBQ FAQs. If you know how to fuel your fire but can’t decide what to cook, here are a few ideas on grilling without red meat and a cookbook or two to inspire.

Before you head out to buy watermelons and Not Dogs, check out our tips on prioritizing organic purchases, washing produce, and what those codes on produce really mean. And read Lou Bendrick’s beefy take on the real impacts of meat production.

Worried about bug bites? Check out our buzzworthy review of DEET-free bug repellents and read this rundown on eco-friendlier insect repellents and sunscreens. Be sure to keep an eye out for our brand-new test of eco-sunscreens, coming in early June.

And if you’re using this weekend as a chance to spruce up your grounds, check out our ideas for lawn alternatives, advice on fertilizers, and tips for the best way to water.

Finally, a verging-on-earnest note: we know Memorial Day is about more than cookouts and bug bites. But we don’t have many links to offer on the topic of sacrificing young lives in faraway lands. Still, we hope you’ll take a moment this weekend to thank the men and women who made your vegan sausagefest possible.

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OK, it’s one thing to say Screw Earth Day, but there are some holidays you just don’t toy with. We know enough to leave Mother’s Day alone. You don’t have to pull this car over.

In honor of the day, we hereby present great green gift ideas for ma. Not that you still need a gift, what with having procured the perfect item several weeks ago. But, you know, just in case:

If your shopping is done (or your gift is a great big hug), spent a little time with these mom-oriented stories from our archives (still soft as a baby’s bottom!):

Happy Mother’s Day, all! Because we said so.

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Len SauersProcter & GambleDoes Earth Day still matter? Sure, it does -- absolutely.

But the reason for the day should have evolved for all of us. Instead of simply planting a new seedling and moving on, we should be looking at Earth Day in a new light.

Earth Day should no longer be a jump-start to action, activism, and awakening. We all need to be far beyond that.

Instead, Earth Day should now be about:

Earth Day started as a way to recognize that the Earth needs help. We should all get that. Now, what are we doing to intervene -- and how we can help each other do more?

From a corporate perspective, we are faced with many opportunities to make a tremendous difference. But I would challenge that today's mission of "going green" is not a bandwagon, it's a journey. And the deliverables need to not only be real, but long-lasting and sustainable in and of themselves.

I also would challenge that if done strategically, all the "green" stuff we do throughout the rest of the year should be good not just for the environment, but also for business and partnerships. And that right here, at this intersection -- where environmental issues and business needs meet -- is where green can establish real roots and begin to grow. Here is where it becomes more than a day, but a way of doing business -- every day.

At P&G, we made a commitment several years ago to integrate sustainability into every part of our business. All new facilities are built from a sustainability blueprint, ensuring that we are maximizing the natural environment and minimizing our footprint. We're designing production lines that recycle once-escaping energy. We're re-engineering packages on many of our 300 brands to reduce packaging without any discernable change to design or to the user's experience. We've also reformulated some of our products, delivering compact laundry formulas that come in smaller bottles or deliver superior cleaning in cold water.

As a result, we're reducing our energy intake, our waste, and our costs while increasing efficiency and productivity. It's an artful blend of environmental green and business black.

We're learning that it's important to not only make a difference now, but to also ensure we remain a strong player tomorrow. That way, we can continue to help shape the future.

To me, that's what Earth Day should now be about for us all. It's not an awakening or a campaign. Short-term wins are not wins. And we can and should be helping each other. After all, we are on this journey -- together.

Happy Earth Day!

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Mike CermakAs someone who spends half his time teaching and studying in a university among some rather well-off and highly educated young people, and the other half working as an environmental educator in urban high schools, I see a range of responses to the message and spectacle of Earth Day. At my university, I'm fairly involved with the student clubs that promote sustainability, and we are planning a daylong celebration with a band, exhibitor tables, art ... the works. But just a few miles away, in the urban high schools, I still hear, "You're really into that white people stuff" as a common response when I talk about eco-this or sustainable-that.

Despite the environmental movement's newfound introspection on its largely white and affluent constituency, I still see a large gap to be bridged when it comes to how Earth Day, and the entire Earth-ethos, is embraced.

From the perspective of someone who sees strength through diversity as critical for the green movement, I'm tired of us mimicking marketers by saying we need to grab the attention of this or that racial or minority group with our message. Instead I think there can be a deeper look at what it means to have a day, a week, a month, or an hour for a sociopolitical issue (yes, there is an Earth Hour, if you didn't know).

The truth is, I think we can answer the question of "Does Earth Day matter?" with another question: How is Black History Month doing?

Because as we enviros obsess over our own day, happily coasting on the green wave, we sometimes gloss over the idea that maybe our day would have a wider audience if we worked just as hard for other people's days.

We should begin to look harder at the pre-existing messages about the Earth that lie in cultural celebrations outside the mainstream, whether it's understanding why Africa is called the motherland, or what some Latinos mean by Pacha Mama. We can only learn more by discovering histories outside our own, and talking to living people who don't necessarily look like us.

Of course, we also need to remain aware that divvying up our temporal continuum into months, years, and hours that are further divided among a plethora of themes is really a trick that lends itself to separation -- not to mention commercialization. In the back of my mind, I am wary that Earth Day will become a buy your mate an eco-trinket day and lose the real value of coming together and reveling that our lease of the planet is renewed. But until my local pharmacy starts selling Earth Day goods in February, I'm still planning on partying in our organic garden with University kids and teaching about environmental justice in the hood. I'm just optimistic like that.

I am making some progress in bridging these two worlds, and Earth Day may be a good platform from which to grow a more mutual celebration. Earth Day, and any commemorative day, is a small attempt at social learning, and real learning doesn't happen in an hour, a day, a month, or even a year. I won't be too excited if Black History month borrows from the enviros and whittles its participatory window down to an hour. If anything, we should expand both celebrations. Caring about the Earth and her people -- and working together for meaningful solutions -- is a lifelong activity.

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Jennifer OladipoOnce I started to honestly contemplate the issue at hand, a tiny wave of anxiety came over me. I'd sat down ready to list all the reasons why Earth Day Matters, but none came. None that I believed in wholeheartedly. OK, the commemorative day is certainly a useful tool for organizing events, and a great time to trot out corporate responsibility efforts. It might gently tug on the consciences of the aware-but-unconverted, and could conceivably be a revelation for the few hundred people who haven't yet heard how fashionable it is to be green. Oh, and kids. Maybe for some children Earth Day could be a first exposure to environmentalism, as it was for me. Even though I'd been playing outside, gardening, and helping Mom pick up organic meat and eggs at an Amish farm by age 11, Earth Day sort of put it all together, gave it a brand.

Today, I'm not sure that brand carries the same cache. At a time when every magazine from Vanity Fair to St. Louis Monthly has a regular green issue -- wait, scratch that. The green issue craze might be on the bust end of its bubble now that Vanity Fair is nixing its own after acknowledging the green glut throughout the media. The media and everywhere else, I'd say. Just look around at the "eco-friendly" tote bags that have become fundraising tools the way chocolate bars and 18-month calendars used to be. They leave no class behind, ranging from the luxuriously large Whole Foods version to the one-dollar polyester deal available at the grocery store in my neighborhood (affectionately called "Kro-ghetto"). You can design your own bag online, and watch a ticker count the number of "Bags Saved Today!" And there's more -- so, so, so much more. Earth Day's just a blip on the green screen now.

The day is supposed to mark the birth of the modern environmental movement in 1970, but those radical roots just aren't producing the same fruit anymore. I would bet that the prevailing understanding of Earth Day has less to do with political upheaval and social enlightenment than with a movement that's often missed the big picture. Forty years of "save the whales," "save the rainforest," and now "save the polar bears" can only produce so much concern or action among regular folks. Especially in these economic times, messages about saving yourself from abstract problems that will occur within the next century are just too easy to dismiss. Come to think of it, same goes for good economic times.

So does Earth Day cut through environmental ennui, or resonate at a higher frequency than all the rest of the eco-babble? I don't think so. I'd just as soon replace it with Regional Food Systems Day or Local Environmental Health Hazards Day. Earth Day's salvation lies in our ability to seriously connect it to the world as we know it, not as we imagine or would like for everyone to know it. It needs to be an opportunity to examine the current state of affairs rather than trot out decades-old messages.

In 2003, just four weeks after the United States had declared war on Iraq, I barely mentioned Earth Day to friends or family. No matter what one's political leanings, the war was an enormous, sobering thing. Trying to cajole people to Earth Day festivities the way I normally would seemed about as appropriate as whipping out a piñata at a funeral.

It sort of feels that way in 2009, only worse -- because every time I look up, someone's hanging a biodegradable piñata overhead. Purchased, no doubt, with an optional carbon offset.

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Dan AkstThank God for Earth Day: another occasion for affluent white Americans to feel good about themselves by enacting some pointless environmental ritual. Perhaps we can all drive to the festivities in our hulking SUVs.

Can you blame me for being cynical? Every dinner party I attend is marked by pious denunciations of greed and excess, yet all the guests have multiple cars, multiple homes, and a tendency to break out in hives if they don't take a planet-warming plane flight once a month or so.

Recently an acquaintance of mine, at such a gathering, condemned the horrors of Hummers -- then brightened when she had the chance to tell us about the major addition she was about to tack onto her house, the better for her tiny family to rattle around in. I was at another dinner party where the hosts, who also hold all the right environmental views, both work more than 100 miles from home. And "home" is a fashionably old farmhouse that appears to be devoid of insulation.

My kids' school is "going green." So far, this seems to mean requiring pupils to buy a metal water bottle -- just the sort of fetish-object we environmentalists love. But despite a student body distributed over a vast area, there is no organized attempt to carpool. During spring break, moreover, the school's well-to-do families fly hither and yon, or drive to the ski slopes, or shuttle between their houses. Some of the cars still display their Obama bumper stickers, cherished amulets against reproach.

Who are we kidding? Well-intentioned people everywhere lament global warming, but few of us care enough to take even the most reasonable basic steps to make a change. We salve our conscience by recycling cans or buying locally grown rutabagas, as if such nonsense matters when set against our own -- and our country's -- gigantic fossil footprint.

There are, of course, those who don't believe in man-made global warming, or don't consider it a big deal compared to malnutrition, disease and other Third World maladies. I think these people are mostly wrong, but at least they aren't hypocrites. Before we can expect the skeptics to change, it might be nice if we set a better example. And if you're about to protest that you already live in a yurt, save your breath. This isn't about you. It's about the rest of us -- and I count myself foursquare among them -- who tut-tut and wring our hands and then drive home, content in our sanctimony.

One way to change that is to do something that actually matters this Earth Day. First, figure out your own carbon footprint (several websites will do this for you) and see how you stack up against the national average, which of course is way too high anyway. Then set a reasonable goal for reduction and publicly commit to it -- at your next dinner party, for example.

Do not pretend you're going to bicycle everywhere, or that it's somehow smart or ethical to spend $50,000 to cut your electric bill by 20 percent. On the contrary, first do what yields the biggest reduction for the smallest pain -- and measure the results to see how you're doing. You could give up beef, for instance. Fly less. Change your bulbs and plug the holes in your house. Buy stuff used. These modest sacrifices will have a much bigger impact than obsessing over where your eggplants come from. You can go up the scale from there, perhaps by considering an on-demand hot water system. The idea is continuous, sensible improvement; at our house we use a ten-year payback metric. If a measure won't repay its cost, then there's probably a better way to spend the money to save the earth.

At the same time, let's acknowledge the limits of caulk guns and compact fluorescents -- to say nothing of the Kyoto accord. To make a real domestic difference -- of the kind that could help us make a difference on the world stage -- will take political action. Thus it's probably better to invest in political candidates than solar panels.

We seem to have forgotten that sometimes we need government to protect us from ourselves. Often it guards against the wrong harms (as with Prohibition or the war on drugs). But not always. Long ago, in a time of crisis, we agreed to tax ourselves to guard against destitution in retirement, and the voters still strongly support Social Security. Perhaps this time around we can find the will to tax ourselves (and our carbon use) to guard against environmental destitution. Then we can safely ignore Earth Day, smug in the knowledge that we aren't the sort of people who are satisfied with empty gestures.

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Rick BassHaving elected Team Obama, and seen a few months of promising leadership, have we achieved Mission Accomplished with regard to righting the environmental wrongs of the Bush administration? You don't hear the question being voiced so much as instead sense it infiltrating, with an air of unearned relief. Everywhere, after the majestic battle of the long campaign, there is hope, and the feeling that one is no longer a prisoner in one's own country. It's sweet. But it's slightly misplaced: Barack Obama's got the bully pulpit, but he's still just one man. It remains to the 290 million of us who are the muscle, the fuel to propel him in his efforts to reconnect and repair a fragmenting and warming world. So far we've all been pretty much mostly talk, himself included. You don't back off and say Mission Accomplished on your first day of work in a new job: and I am not referring to his first day, or new job, but ours.

The unspoken idea that by electing Obama we've won the battle, and the similar idea that a ceremony such as Earth Day is outdated, a hippie-like vestige, reminds me of the extractive industries' mantra -- decades old, now -- that "every day is Earth Day."

Who are we kidding? Giving up on or slacking off on Earth Day is like deciding not to celebrate your grandmother's birthday any more simply because she's gotten older, or has a cough.

Carbon dioxide concentrations are nearing the point-of-no-return of 360 parts-per-million -- at some point beyond that, the eggshell of a globe we call home might ignite into a giant ball of flame, simply from the belch of one more cow -- and yet even if we can postpone that blinding ignition, it's predicted that as many as half of the world's species will be getting off the good ship Eden within our lifetimes, and there is no one who can promise us that we ourselves will not be among that one-in-two.

Make no mistake, he is smart; but the power is in us, far more than in him. We put him there. We had a choice not to, but we did. He worked all his life to be in the position where we could give him that power, but it was our passion and despair and hope, not his, that lifted him up and put him where he needs to be at the time he most needs to be there.

Now we go to work, in the first year of our new lives, at our new job, at rebuilding a republic that has been built from the very beginning, in part, on a faulty foundation: a land stolen from the indigenous people who had lived on it for ten thousand years or more, and developed on the backs of slaves, and with the we-the-conquerors for the most part choosing, whenever it was time to make a hard choice, the poisoning of sky and soil and water over the discipline and sustainability of regulation.

The only cornerstone of that foundation that was set down in good shape, and which remains in good shape, is the cornerstone of passion -- the passion with which we began this enterprise -- and we have to hope and continue to believe that will be enough to fuel the repair of the other three faulty cornerstones. And what a country it was at the beginning, then, even with but one firm cornerstone of true integrity set down upon that rich land, and what a country it remains, even after so much sorrow and so many wrongs. If we could accomplish what we did in November on one cornerstone, imagine the nation we can be when our cornerstones are finally set foursquare.

He's just one man, just a guy. He's not a king. He needs our support and cooperation more than ever, and the new nation --and I believe in my heart that something has changed, something magnificent, and that we are once again a new nation -- needs to honor and revere our traditions of worth and integrity, deeper institutional traditions such as Earth Day, more than ever, fledgling though those traditions still may be.

It's my own hope that we'll still be celebrating Earth Day in the United States two hundred years from now: though what that might look like, I can't imagine, can only hope and believe that regardless of the travails through which we will pass to get there, it will be something fine, something glorious, something utterly enduring, forged from the rigors of the battle. Something we can be proud of. We need it more than ever. In the old days it was a celebration. Now it is the thing which, if we practice adherence and focus, can save our own lives, as well as the lives of many others.

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