When I think about The End of the
World as We Know It, one thing I worry about is the availability of coffee.
I am sure this is a concern of
yours as well. Assuming that you get
through the Zombie Apocalypse, the EMP, the Rising Sea Levels, or whatever your
personal big fear is, and find yourself among a group of scrappy survivors, I
guarantee you some of them are going to want coffee. It might even become a hot commodity. Worth its weight in gold.
The Inspiration for this Project
The project documented in this post
was inspired by S.M. Stirling’s The Change series. In the first book, Dies the Fire, the world of the 1990s is interrupted when all
electronics, engines, and gunpowder suddenly cease to function. At that point the series becomes alternate
history. The series migrates toward Game
of Thrones style fantasy the longer it goes on, but the first few books
especially are more in the post-apocalyptic genre, about people surviving and
starting to rebuild society in the Northwest and in Northern California. And once they get a steady food supply going,
their coffee substitute is “roasted, ground chicory roots.”
I could probably find chicory
coffee at a co-op type food store, but I want to try to make it myself. That’s the only way I can learn about the process
and find out if such a thing would be feasible.
Lessons from the Chicory Experiment
Chicory is a wildflower that grows
all along the highways in our region at certain times of year. Though there is an abundant supply of it on
the medians, that’s not the safest place to gather it in this pre-apocalyptic world
where vehicles of all kinds are still whizzing by. So I had to seek chicory on a back road. In this picture, the plants with lavender
colored flowers are chicory and the ones with white flowers are Queen Anne’s
Today’s weather is very humid, and it’s so hot that there is a heat advisory. Also, it turns out that chicory grows surrounded by thistles and extremely sharp-bladed grass.
Lesson 1: Gather chicory in the early morning, before the day gets hot. Wear cowboy boots, not flip flops.
I assumed that chicory would have a
taproot similar to a dandelion’s, so I brought a small trowel. I couldn’t find my dandelion picking tool, so
I brought a large screwdriver, which is almost as good for digging down beside
the taproot to loosen the soil.
It turns out that chicory roots are similar to dandelion’s, but much larger, deeper, and woodier.
Lesson 2: I probably could have brought a regular garden shovel instead.
Here is the chicory I
gathered. I have no idea how much
“coffee” this quantity will make, but I’m hoping it will be enough for one
cup. Finding out is part of the purpose
of this experiment. I don’t have the
time or energy to dig more due to having come at the wrong time of day. Clearly, I have a lot to learn as a
Next step. Google the process just to make sure I don’t accidentally poison myself by skipping a step. (We won’t be able to Google stuff after the apocalypse, which is all the more reason to do it now.) The search takes me here. Hank Shaw is a “hunter, angler, gardener, forager, and cook” and he seems to know what he’s talking about. Uh-oh, he says you need to harvest chicory in the fall. But he seems to have harvested some in the summer with no ill effects. Onward.
Here are the roots after being washed. I need to cut them into thin slices, dry them for two or three days in the sunshine, and then roast them as directed. Cutting them yields mixed results. Some have a woody core so tough that I have to saw it, with dirt trapped between this core and the outer, soft layer. Others are softer, solid and cuttable all the way through, more like cutting a carrot. My guess is that Hank’s nice, plump “root chicory” is more like this.
Lesson 3: Wild chicory might not be the way to go. It might be smarter
to cultivate it.
My roots have yielded this measly tray of chicory slices. Following the expert, I sun them on the back of my vehicle. They dry out for a few hours, and then promptly get rained on. I sop them up with a paper towel and move the tray to our sun porch.
Lesson 4: Obvious.
After two days of drying on our sun porch, the chicory slices had visibly shrunk and felt dry. I put them in a 350 degree oven for about an hour and a half. During this time, the house filled with a curious warm malty smell, as predicted on Hank Shaw’s web site. This was reassuring, because it meant that I was in fact roasting the right kind of root. On the other hand, my family complained about the smell.
Lesson 5: There is going to be a lot of complaining around our house after the apocalypse. But I kind of knew that already.
This is what the chicory roots
looked like after about 90 minutes. They
Next, I ground the chicory in a food processor …
… And put it in a one-cup coffee filter. As I had hoped, it was just the right amount for one mug.
As you can see, the roots don’t
grind up nice and even like coffee grounds.
There are some bigger chunks, and then there’s some powder that’s as
fine as French Press coffee or even baking powder or something. Perhaps I could have gotten the chunks
chopped up further if I’d been willing to grind them for longer, but as I was
grinding, fine dust kept escaping from the food processor and coating the
surrounding counter. I stopped when I
figured the grounds would be sufficient.
If you were grinding roast chicory in large quantities, there’d be
certain to be a lot of dust.
If there were no electricity, I guess I’d be forced to crush it in my marble mortar:
I poured hot water over the
grounds, and it worked great! A very
creditable cup of something that looks exactly like coffee.
The wet grounds, and the liquid
itself, smell very smoky. I’m going to try it black first, because after
the apocalypse there is unlikely to be spare milk, let alone hazelnut creamer.
It tastes exactly as Hank Shaw describes it: “a brighter acidity than coffee and … ‘earthy.'”
I give a sip of it to my trucker
husband, who ought to know about mediocre coffee.
Me: Does it taste like truck stop
Him: Truck stops couldn’t sell
coffee if it tasted like this.
Well, it tastes OK to me. But I might be slightly invested, seeing as how I made it.
I add milk and continue to drink. It tastes most coffee-like when hot. As it cools, it begins to taste more and more like … smoke. Now I realize I’ve had this before. I think it was called “smoke tea.” It must have been chicory. I like the flavor, but I realize it wouldn’t be for everybody.
But the bottom line is: I did it! I did it! I dug up a common wildflower and forced it to yield a coffeelike substance. It was a bit of a project, but not hugely inconvenient and actually took less processing than I’ve heard real coffee takes.
Lesson 6: It is possible to make a coffee substitute from chicory, even
if you have little previous knowledge or skills.
As you can see in the video below, Dave Rubin did an off-the-grid August last year. (He starts talking about it at 1:57). I heard him say he was going to do the same this year, and invite all of us to join him.
I thought that was a great idea, as August is also the month that I’m going to be moving to an undisclosed location. (Yep, that picture above. That is exactly where I’m going to be living.)
Unlike Dave Rubin, I have not pre-taped episodes of this blog to play throughout August in my absence. I will not be posting until September.
Many years ago, a friend and I got
talking about what Utopia would look like to us. I ended up producing a fairly extensive
write-up on utopia according to me, dubbed “Jentopia.”
Jentopia turns out to be a very decentralized, low-tech society. I sketched a vision of people living in a scattered network of mostly self-sufficient farmsteads. They subsisted on agriculture, animal husbandry, hunting and fishing, or whatever combination of these best suited their immediate environment. Government was local. Crimes were handled at the community level by a tribal or community council. If a major military threat should arise from without, communities would get together and form a temporary militia to repel it. All art was folk art, all music folk music. Things that require a specialist, such as medicine, midwifery, and metalsmithing would be handled by local experts or by traveling specialists with whom gifted young people could apprentice if they chose. Young people, when they came of age, could travel to other communities to find spouses or seek work. Or they could simply go explore their world. Because of the low level of technology, it was unlikely that any one group could completely wipe out another. The low tech also limited the speed and range of travel. The world was connected, but loosely so. Families and communities were largely self-sufficient.
The closest I have ever seen historical conditions coming to Jentopia is the description of Almonzo Wilder’s boyhood in the book Famer Boy, written by his wife, Laura Ingalls Wilder. I suppose that this book, plus the Noble Savage myth, is where my mental picture of Jentopia originated.
The Wilder family are prosperous
farmers living in upstate New York
in the 1880s. They raise cows, sheep, pigs, and horses. They have fields and a big garden. The sheep produce wool, from which Mrs. Wilder
weaves and then makes all the family’s clothes.
They have their own woodlot, from which they get (as needed) wintergreen
berries, nuts, and timber. They have their own lake, from which they cut ice to
store for the summer. They achieve all
this by working nonstop. By the time he
is nine, Almonzo is plowing all day in the early summer. He makes up for it by eating his weight in
food at every meal.
The Wilders are as near as a family can come to being completely self-sufficient. Nevertheless, they are connected to the outside world. A shoemaker and a tinker each make an annual trip to the area, selling the family what they need. A buyer from New York City comes by once a year to buy Mrs. Wilder’s butter. Mr. Wilder trains horses and sells them. And they are not completely safe from crime. A neighboring farm family is robbed and severely beaten in their own house one night. Also, the Wilder’s whole lifestyle would vanish if one of them were to become disabled by an injury or a serious illness.
We All Want It …
Despite not being perfect, the “Farmer Boy” lifestyle is very appealing to me in theory. And not only to me. It appeals to many people for different reasons. Some are survivalists who want to have more security by having more control over their food supply. Others are environmentalists who would rather not contribute to the problems of pollution and industrial farming.
These are not unusual
feelings. I think most people, if you
asked them, would rather be as self-sufficient as possible. And nobody, if you ask them point-blank, wants to pollute or create huge piles of
garbage or exploit other people in sweat shops or indirectly participate in
cruelty to animals. We all would like to
live in an ideal world where we don’t harm anyone or anything else by our lifestyle.
We are all trying to get back to the Garden.
So why is it that most people resist the call to suddenly enact a low-tech, environmentally friendly lifestyle? As a fellow blogger put it, “people don’t like environmental rants.” His theory is that we are all just too lazy and selfish to give up our luxuries. But I don’t think it’s that. I think most people resist “environmental rants” due to good, sound psychological reasoning.
People are willing to do something if they believe it will provide them some kind of tangible benefit. It’s best if they start seeing this benefit right away. If we tried to plant a garden and nothing came up, we might try again next year, but we would certainly be discouraged and might give up. This effect, by the way, is the reason that Dave Ramsey advises people who have a lot of debts to tackle their smaller debts first. It would make more sense mathematically to start with the larger debts, which rack up more interest. But Ramsey has discovered by trial and error that people need the early sense of accomplishment that comes with seeing a debt vanish. This gives them hope that paying off their debts is possible and further motivates them to keep saving.
Occasionally you meet a person who is so disciplined and mature that they can work hard and sacrifice for a very long-term goal, sometimes for years before seeing any results. But this is not the norm. In the real world, people give up if they don’t believe their efforts are having any effect.
That is the problem with asking people to make changes in their lifestyle for an abstract environmental goal. There is no obvious connection between our actions and the end result. We are told that the world is ending and that it’s because of our lifestyle. However, we are also told that even if we completely changed our lifestyle tomorrow, it’s possible the disastrous trend would not reverse. And even if everyone in our city – or state – or country – managed to completely change our lifestyle, China would still be out there polluting. Our actions wouldn’t make a dent in climate change, if it is even mostly human-caused. If it is even worse than the alternatives.
In the end, the actions we are urged to take are so tiny that it’s hard to see how they could do anything. Use a different kind of light bulb. Produce less trash. Don’t eat meat. Whoopee. I don’t take environmental end-times prophets seriously unless they ask us to move to the wilderness, go full Wilder, and stop using electricity altogether.
And some of them do.
The Hard Way
I hate to pick on the Green New
Deal, but it’s out there, and I have heard people say that we are selfish,
anti-science, anti-future dunderheads if we object to it. So, let’s talk about it.
The basic premise behind the GND is
to enact a sudden, universal switch to a sustainable, environmentally friendly
lifestyle from the top down, by force. There are two problems with this. One is the tyranny problem. The other is the death problem.
The Tyranny Problem: The problem with enacting radical lifestyle changes from the top down is that this is, not to mince words, tyranny. It is tyranny any time a government tries to force large segments of a population to give up their livelihood, move to a different place, raise their children in a certain way, have more or fewer children, or any other major changes to the elements of our lifestyle that are the proper domain of families.
Mao Tse Tung tried this in China. It was called the Great Leap Forward. He basically outlawed white-collar jobs and
forced millions of city dwellers to move onto collective farms. Millions died in the famines that
followed. (Top-down control of farming
>>> crop failure >>> famine.)
Any time a government tries to
force major lifestyle changes on its populace, whatever else the initiative may
be it is also a power grab.
Actually, the advocates of the GND
admit that it’s a power grab. They say
that radical, tyrannical steps are necessary now just as they are (arguably)
necessary during Total War, because we are all going to die unless we do
something about this environmental problem.
They say tyranny is justified because they are saving us from death.
So let’s talk about the death problem.
Death Problem: Besides the fact that it’s tyranny, there is another huge
problem with trying to get an entire population to give up electricity,
plastics, and motor vehicles essentially overnight. The problem is that these modern luxuries have
enabled us to build up and sustain a population that is much, much bigger than
subsistence farming could support.
We all depend on electricity (hence coal) and on oil for things like our city sewer systems; our clean, processed water; our garbage removal; our heat in the winter; our healthy, abundant, affordable food. We also depend on these systems for medical technologies that keep many of us alive. Many people are dependent upon medicines that have to be refrigerated and that can only be produced with our current technology.
If we suddenly gave up petroleum and coal, all these systems would collapse. This scenario has been explored – frequently – in sci-fi and dystopias. It always ends in huge die-offs. Often, the die-offs have an additional cause such as zombies. But if you want to read a detailed exploration of what would happen if the lights simply went out, I recommend Dies the Fire by S.M. Stirling. At the beginning of that book, all electricity, motor vehicles, and gunpowder (!) suddenly stop working. There is no bomb, and there are no zombies. Lights out is all it takes to kill off most of the population. If you don’t have time to read Dies the Fire (a doorstop of a book), try the much shorter One Second After by William R. Forstchen, in which gunpowder and motor vehicles continue to work, but the power goes off and communities no longer receive goods from the outside world via trucking. This is even closer to what the Green New Deal would bring us.
Anyone who seriously wants the United States
to stop using coal and petroleum within the next ten years is asking at least
50%, probably more like 75%, of us to die in the cause of environmentalism.
I honestly don’t know whether the advocates of the GND realize this or not. Maybe they think there would be a way to find another source of power, such that it would not cause massive die-offs. Maybe they think the die-offs would be a good thing. Or maybe they don’t actually expect the GND to be enforced as it is written. In any case, I don’t think they’ve thought seriously about how bad it would really be.
The Possibly Not Fatal, But Still Extremely Hard, Way
The only nonfatal way that I can
see for a Luddite dreamer to get from city life to Jentopia is to move there
voluntarily. Buy some land, build a
chicken coop, plant a big garden. Become
a homesteader. Have a generator or a
wood stove or whatever you need in case the power goes out. Dig a root cellar. Stock up on any necessary medicines.
This is good, as far as it goes. It is something that I would like to do if so positioned. That said, there are a few caveats.
Not everyone is in a position to take
up the homesteading lifestyle. Some
people can’t afford to move or can’t afford to buy land. Some are taking care of a sick child or
elder. Some are committed to an
important, demanding career that ties them to a city. (We don’t want all our doctors and
firefighters to go full Luddite!)
Even supposing we do take up the
homesteading lifestyle, it is going to be very demanding. Farming is difficult to succeed in if you
didn’t grow up in it. (For example, you
need a lot of wrist and hand strength that has to be developed in your youth.) For
most people, their homestead would end up being only partially self-sufficient.
They might have a large garden and keep chickens, perhaps even a cow …
but a portion of their food, all of their medicine, and probably the bulk of
their income would be coming from elsewhere.
Even to take up a partially self-sufficient lifestyle,
here are the skills you might need: construction (fixing your house, and
building barns, chicken coops, etc.). Plumbing. Gardening, including knowing what varieties
of garden crops do well in your area and how to handle pests and plant
diseases. Animal husbandry (if you want
your own milk) and butchering (if you want your own bacon). Food preservation (canning, pickling, and
maybe a smokehouse). Water purification.
Home cooking from scratch. Camping
skills such as how to start a fire in a fire pit or in a wood stove – and, not
unrelated, fire safety. Knitting,
sewing, and – if you are hard core – spinning and weaving. Sheep shearing. Soap making.
First aid and possibly more advanced medical knowledge, if you are
living in a place remote enough that it would be hard to get to medical
care. Home dental care (tooth
extraction?). Home haircuts. Vehicle maintenance (or horse breeding). How to maintain the road into and out of your
place. And finally, if you are preparing
for the lawlessness that would follow a social or environmental apocalypse, you
will need self-defense skills, shooting skills, and gun maintenance (or sword
skills if you are living the world of Dies
Obviously, living in an environmentally friendly way is going to be a full-time occupation and then some. You will have no time for art or leisure.
Let me be the first to say that I
do not have all these skills. I do not
have a green thumb. I have a tiny yard
that is not set up for chickens or gardening.
I have a modestly stocked pantry and one lousy rain barrel. I have a fire place but no wood pile. If the power went off in our city in the
middle of the winter and stayed off for a month or two … maybe my family would survive. That’s leaving looters out of the equation.
Maybe I should start calling myself
It’s a really big club.
Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder, HarperCollins, first published 1933. Shows the Wilder family’s lifestyle by following Almonzo through one year of his life.
The Quarter-Acre Farm: How I Kept the Patio, Lost the Lawn, and Fed my Family for a Year by Spring Warren. Seal Press, 2011. Warren decides she personally (only she, not her husband and sons) is going to eat only what she grows on her own property for one year. (She has to exclude beverages from this, or she would have to give up all drinks but water.) She works her tail off, but she does it. Her learning curve is delightful to read. Note that she lives in California, which has a good growing climate, and when the book starts her yard already boasts fruit trees.
Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China by Jung Chang. Chang chronicles the life of her grandmother, her mother, and herself. Her parents were both dedicated communists early in the movement. Her family survived being separated and sent to collective farms during the Great Leap Forward.
“The Climate Case of the Century” by Edward Ring on American Greatness. The web site is kind of annoying in terms of ads and pop-ups (sorry about that!), but in the section of the article called “Critical Questions,” Ring asks a series of great questions about the extent and nature of climate change and the relative harm and benefits of trying to switch to solar and wind power.
There is a type of sci-fi that is
triumphalist. In this kind of sci-fi,
people colonize space, improve their health so that they become immortal,
enhance their brain powers, or even change the basic nature of humanity … and
all goes well. This is welcomed as a
Then there is another type of
sci-fi, where the implications of changes like these are thoughtfully teased
out. This is what sci-fi is for, after
all: thought experiments. “What would be
all the implications for our everyday lives if X were not only possible but
routine?” This thoughtful strain of
sci-fi is neither hidebound nor reactionary, and yet … these thought
experiments so often end up becoming cautionary tales.
It is these cautionary tales that I think should be required reading or viewing for policy makers. All of this stuff has been explored, in fiction, and it never ends well. I can’t tell you how many times, when I hear some harebrained social experiment being suggested, I just want to scream, “Haven’t you people ever watched a single sci-fi movie?”
Here are a few
Think it would be great if all
parents could afford to edit inherited diseases out of their child’s genome?
Go watch Gattica.
Predicting people’s behavior and
assigning them roles in society based on their genetic predispositions? Perfectly efficient society with no freedom?
Interested in “designer babies?”
There is an episode of The Outer Limits in which the genetic editing
seems to work, but once the designer kids reach adulthood, there are unintended
side effects that cause them to become outcasts from the very society that
created them. They are understandably
bitter, and become a criminal class made all the more dangerous by their
genetically edited strength and smarts.
How about perfectly executed
plastic surgery to make everyone conform to contemporary beauty standards?
There’s an episode of The Twilight Zone for that.
Creating a human/animal hybrid?
The movie Splice.
Storing all our important personal
information on the cloud so that it’s always at our fingertips?
Audio and visual recording equipment everywhere?
What if we take this wonderful
stream of information and give everyone a brain implant so they can access it
at any time?
Back to The Outer Limits. In one episode, “the stream” takes on a consciousness of its own and begins to control the people by feeding them lies. The only person who can even read the hard-copy manual in order to shut it down is a guy whose brain wouldn’t accept the implant because of a birth defect, so he has had to take a job as a janitor and has been forced to read physical books at a normal pace. Poor guy. (Of course, we don’t even need to look at The Outer Limits because we can already access “the stream” at any time, and it’s driving us crazy.)
How about “smart homes,” where our
electronic assistant can work our garage door, locks, thermostat and so much
I give you HAL from 2001: A Space Odyssey. And also every
other book or movie where the electric grid goes down and suddenly no one can
Really smart AI?
How about a perfectly controlled
society in which children are raised communally?
Run and The Office of Mercy. Oh, and Soviet orphanages.
How about a perfectly controlled
society in which children are raised in families, but these families are
assigned by a central government so that each child lives in an ideal home?
Giver by Lois Lowry.
How about we find or create a
portal through hyperspace and just start throwing stuff randomly into it? Or how about we touch it? It’s OK, the person touching it has a cable attached to
him, should be fine, if anything goes wrong we can pull him right out …
(But actually, we shouldn’t need a
movie like Event Horizon to tell us that it’s not smart to send anything
through a portal that we don’t know where
OK, OK, you’re right … no one is
seriously suggesting that we try to travel through space/time wormholes. Not that I am aware of. Let’s try one that people actually are suggesting: