Bookshelf

Craig Reynolds ’73 wearing thick gloves as he harvests agave pups (offshoots) on his farm in Woodland, California

MAX WHITTAKER

Raising Spirits

Equal parts non sibi and tequila create Craig Reynolds ’73’s cocktail for change

raig Reynolds’ phone is ringing nonstop these days. Farmers. Distillers. Celebrities. All curious about his crops—rows of prehistoric-looking succulents across a sweeping desert vista in Yolo County, California. Crops that yield one of the most exclusive liquors on the luxury market.

The agave plant is an iconic symbol of the Mexican spirits world, mainly enjoyed in its distilled form as tequila. Reynolds’ own brand of “agave spirits” —Dos Volcanes—is made from the same blue Webber plant as tequila. It began as a whim—an idea dreamed up as a way to raise money for scholarships to support Project Amigo. Since 1984, Reynolds and his wife, Cass, have been volunteers at the nonprofit, which fosters literacy and educational opportunities for underserved children in Colima, Mexico.

“I was certain it would fail,” admits Reynolds, whose day job was working in the California State Legislature as chief of staff for Sen. Lois Wolk. He had zero experience farming or, for that matter, running a business. “But I went along with it to humor my friend, Ted Rose, co-founder of Project Amigo, and surprisingly—to me at least—the agaves did very well.”

His first crop, planted in Colima in 2006, produced 10,000 bottles of Dos Volcanes. The new brand quickly became a critics’ favorite, fetching $70 for a 750 ml. bottle. Proceeds from the sales were poured into the scholarship program that helps send children in rural Colima to high school and college.

A teen from a migrant labor camp named Brenda was one of Dos Volcanes’ first scholars. Her father worked in Mexico’s sugar cane fields and her mother, also a field hand, harvested berries at a local farm. At 17, Brenda was accepted to the University of Colima Medical School—a one-hour bus ride from the camp. She traveled back and forth every day for six years; this past

May she graduated as a physician.

“Brenda now serves as a doctor in a nearby village, helping them through the pandemic,” Reynolds says. “There are dozens of stories like hers, made possible by the support of Project Amigo staff, volunteers, and contributors.”

While growing agave in Mexico, Reynolds discovered another way the plant could be useful. His job in politics pushed him deep into the weeds of California’s water policy. Because of climate change, the state is experiencing warmer temperatures, making it the driest it’s been in a century and dropping crucial water sources to their lowest levels.

The science is dire news for everyone, but especially for farmers whose cash crops include almonds and pistachios, which have an insatiable appetite for water.

Ecologically, growing agave can potentially address at least some of the effects of climate change in California, Reynolds explains. The large, spiky bluish-green succulents are naturally drought tolerant, fire resistant and, when compared to other California crops, require less than one-tenth the water to cultivate.

“In other words, it’s a perfect plant,” says Reynolds. “Not to mention that it can grow in places where almost nothing else can grow—like rocky and sandy areas.”

As he forged ahead, trying to carve out solutions for the state’s water shortage, Reynolds would often quip that “the better solution would be for almond growers to grow agave—a high value crop that doesn’t require much water.” In 2014, the same year he successfully harvested his crop in

Mexico, Reynolds planted blue agave north of the border in Yolo

County. “I figured with climate change and the predicted warming, this area would be more and more hospitable,” Reynolds says. “And the world really doesn’t need another

TEQUILA or NOT TEQUILA?

First, a little history. When it comes to turning agave into alcohol, Mexico enjoys a considerable head start over California. Indigenous Mesoamericans made a fermented beerlike beverage called pulque from agave for at least 1,000 years. A sliver of research suggests distillation may have occurred prior to Spanish contact, but the dominant belief is that it was the conquistadors of the 1600s who first started making liquor out of the plant to quell their craving for brandy. The tradition became big business over the next two centuries, especially for the Cuervo and Sauza families.

The Mexican government has controlled the designation “tequila” since 1974 and “mezcal” since 1994—much like France controls the designation “Champagne.” Thus, Dos Volcanes, created in the same way as tequila but made from agaves grown outside the region, is branded as spirits distilled from agave.

At left: Renolds uses a sharp, longhandled “cao” to slice away the plants’ distinctive sword-like leaves. Below: Dos Volcanes earned its name from the location of Reynolds’ agave crop in Mexico: between two volcanoes.

tequila from Mexico—there are over 1,500 brands. But California could certainly use at least one.”

Reynolds now has five California craft distillers making spirits from his California-grown agave.

Retired from politics, Reynolds remains an advocate for the environment through a new concept he’s coined “Mezcalifornia” (trademark pending), aimed at building an agave spirits industry in The Golden State that addresses drought, groundwater, and wildfire issues.

The first harvest of his Yolo County crop in 2019 created a media buzz, drawing fans and inquiries from around the globe. In addition to his phone and inbox lighting up with requests— including a publicity campaign for a celebrity tequila on his agave farm and plans for a teaching distillery at UC Davis—some large-scale growers are beginning to take interest.

Getting the big farming operations on board, Reynolds points out, is the only way for agave to have a fighting chance to create real and lasting environmental change. And whatever emerges on this side of the border for agave will be something new in both name and spirit.

“I’m focused on nurturing the industry through its infancy, getting more growers and craft distillers on board and connecting them,” Reynolds says, adding that he is now working with one of the largest growers in the region, which recently planted an experimental crop of agave. “The goal isn’t to try and replicate what’s happening in Mexico, but to innovate right here in California.”

QuickBites

Faculty, staff, and alumni savor their favorite memories, places, and feelings about food.

ISTOCK: BREAD, MARIATKACH; MANGO, BOONCHUAY1970; TURKEY, EVGENYB; NAPKIN, ANDREY ELKIN

Rajesh Mundra P’18, ’20

Dean of Studies, Biology Instructor I was traveling In Ahmedabad, India, with Catherine Tousignant ’88 and Andover students in the Niswarth program a few years ago. We were there at the end of mango season, and I was told to find the Alphonso variety. We went to a couple of stores and discovered the season had ended the week before—and that there were none to be found. Undeterred, we went to a local market and, after many conversations, we were taken inside a warehouse where there were just a couple of crates left of the Alphonsos! So, happy with anticipation, we bargained (lightly) and eventually bought a crate.

That evening in the hotel, we encouraged our students to close their eyes as we placed some beautiful pieces of this precious fruit on their plates. Eyes still closed, they sniffed and took in the full aroma. Exotic and unfamiliar, their curiosity was piqued. Now, with lots of smiles and salivating mouths (eyes still shut), each student picked up their fork and finally tasted a piece of the Alphonso mango. Magic! The texture and taste were extraordinary, overwhelming, and peaceful all at the same time! How could this be? Years later, I still talk about the vivid memories of that moment with the Niswarth group.

Ming Tsai ’82, P’18

Chef, Restaurateur Food is life. For me, food is the best way to share yourself with other people. And if it’s tasty, you can make people happy through food. It’s the only art form that uses all of your senses: sight, sound, touch, smell, and taste. How cool is that?

Bridget Tsemo

Director of CAMD, African American Literature Instructor When my mom got sick in 2000, my sister and I decided we’d bring Thanksgiving to her at the nursing home. We had never cooked such a big meal before, and that turkey seemed so overwhelming. It was a commitment! But we had each other to get through it. To tell you the truth, we may have left the bag inside the turkey, and I can’t say whether anyone actually liked it, but the whole family got to have dinner together with my mom. That memory signals the beginning of a very close relationship with my sister, who is my best friend.

Alfred Tomaselli ’87 Ham Apple Casserole

3 cups cooked ham, diced 2 tbsp. prepared mustard 2 apples, cored and diced 2 tbsp. lemon juice ½ cup brown sugar 1 tsp. grated orange rind 2 tbsp. flour

Arrange ham in 1 ½ quart casserole. Spread with mustard. Arrange the diced apples over ham and add lemon juice. Combine brown sugar, orange rind, and flour and sprinkle on top. Bake at 350 for 30–35 minutes. Serves 4.

Donny Slater History & Social Science Instructor As with so many American families, no holiday says food like Thanksgiving. In my eyes, the stuffing is the centerpiece of the meal. I don’t have many physical heirlooms in my family, but one thing that has been passed down over the generations is my great-great, grandmother Lily’s stuffing recipe. She was a Dutch Jew who came to the U.S. via a tragic ship voyage, where she lost her mother overboard. It is unclear if the recipe has any Dutch roots or was something she learned after arriving in New England. My mother learned the recipe from Nana Lily and taught it to me. Each Thanksgiving my daughters now help me make batches of the stuffing. I don’t think that the recipe is terribly unique, but it always seems to have just the right balance of bread, onion, celery, sausage, butter, and seasoning. We often bake it outside of the turkey in its own casserole dish to achieve just the right level of crispiness on the surface. Delish!

A Taste of Humanity

Lara Gilmore ’86’s refettori are no ordinary soup kitchens

ull up a chair, let the world slow down, savor the meal—and the company.

An old Italian proverb might explain it best: A tavola non s’invecchia: “At the table with good friends and family, one does not grow old.” Words to live by for Lara Gilmore, who knows a thing or two about the transformative power of food.

The co-owner of Modena, Italy’s Osteria Francescana—awarded three Michelin stars since 2012 and twice named World’s Best Restaurant—is fighting food waste with her chef husband, Massimo Bottura, and changing the conversation on food.

The power couple launched a social enterprise in 2015. Food for Soul redefines the possibilities of soup kitchens. But make no mistake, Gilmore advises, flashing a thousand-watt smile. This is not a charity project. It is a cultural one.

There are now 13 refettori (Italian for dining halls) worldwide, including two that opened in the United States this year. Refettorio Harlem in New York, which has been providing meals to the community throughout 2021, will open its doors to the public in mid-December, and Refettorio San Francisco currently serves meals in a temporary space while searching for a permanent home. All shine a light on making the most of surplus food.

“The word refettorio,” Gilmore explains, “comes from the Latin reficere, meaning to ‘remake,’ but also to restore. It was originally a place where monks gathered to share their daily meal.

“We wanted to focus on rescuing food and show people how you can make truly delicious meals out of what would otherwise be thrown away by grocery stores, markets, and catering companies,” Gilmore says. “But we also wanted to address beauty at the refettorio. Hospitality and how you welcome someone—how they feel in their environment—is just as important as what you’re serving them at the table.”

MARCO PODERI