Just Watching Bad Stuff Happen

At my last routine checkup, my doctor brought in a physician’s assistant who was ‘in training’ and there to observe. He stood there, scribbling, as I chatted about my insomnia, my diet, my stomach issues. I had to trust that he really was there to learn, maybe even add new information about recommended prescriptions (being a new medical school graduate, he should have the latest information, right?) or help spot impending signs of illness or concern. I had to trust he was there to learn, not there because he might ‘dish’ about private information he learned about recognizable patients in this respected doctor’s office.

If I sound hesitant, it’s because I’ve had my medical privacy invaded many times when I was a TV news anchor in Des Moines, so have others I’ve worked with. I’m sure you’d agree it’s absolutely justifiable to expect that everyone who helps care for their personal or family medical needs is well-trained and professional enough to let them know immediately if they saw something ‘out of line’, ‘out of whack’ or potentially dangerous.

Putting those same concerns in another setting, it also seems reasonable to expect that if a person comes to work on an Iowa livestock farm, they’re well-trained and professional enough to let a farmer (or law enforcement agent) know immediately if they see something ‘out of line,’ ‘out of whack’ or potentially dangerous when it comes to animals that are raised for our food.

Consumers are justifiably concerned about how animals they eat are treated on farms in Iowa. I’m not saying the Ag Protection Bill just passed at the Statehouse is perfect, but at least it gets to the heart of the matter: trust. I want to trust that if an animal is being mistreated on a farm, the person who sees it says something, and the person who does it, is removed or punished immediately. It would also be nice if farmers could trust that people who work on their farms know what they’re doing and stand up to correct or report bad behavior.

I understand we all are concerned about animals; we don’t have to live and work with livestock animals every day to get that they deserve good food, timely medical attention and a compassionate, safe environment during their (somewhat short) lives. Maybe that’s why the majority of farmers speak out against bad actors when they see it because it’s not just the industry that gets smeared when some grainy, heavily-edited, undercover video emerges; it also smears the character of the 99.9% of farmers who also wonder why someone would just stand there and watch.

Written by Laurie Johns
Laurie Johns is Public Relations Manager for the Iowa Farm Bureau.

The pursuit of bacon

This past weekend, I discovered that there is no such thing as too much bacon.

I quickly lost track of how much bacon I sampled at the Blue Ribbon Bacon Festival Feb. 18 in Des Moines (or to be more honest, I stopped counting after the sixth piece of bacon). Yet I kept standing in long lines waiting for more, amazed at the endless variety of bacon-inspired dishes.

In its fifth year, the Blue Ribbon Bacon Festival attracted national attention and has become the must-eat event for Iowa foodies. It was my first visit to the festival, and I was lucky to get a ticket. The 4,000 available tickets were sold out in less than 20 minutes.

The fun-loving crowd arrived with hearty appetites as they gathered at the Iowa State Fairgrounds to celebrate all things bacon. Banners hanging from the rafters of the Varied Industries Building proudly declared, “Ohhhh, bacon!” Attendees donned plastic pig snouts, bacon costumes and humorous T-shirts, many paying homage to the actor Kevin Bacon.

The lines at the vendor booths were so long it was hard to tell where they began. Often, I didn’t know what bacon concoction the vendor was serving until I got to the front of the line.

I ended up sampling bacon sausages, bacon and blue cheese appetizers, and bacon gumbo. I gobbled up a quesadilla filled with bacon, grilled pineapple and melted mozzarella cheese. I watched while a restaurant vendor stuffed bacon inside a soft corn tortilla, then topped it with hot sauce, onions and cilantro, for a twist on the traditional BLT.

And who would have guessed that I would fall head-over-heals with “The Elvis” – a bacon, honey, peanut butter and banana pizza. The bacon cheesecake and caramel bacon gelato were life-changing. I may never eat ice cream without bacon again.

Of course, I also found plenty of vendors offering just plain ol’ bacon. Often, the farmers themselves were serving up the bacon slices, hot off the frying pan. I walked around the festival with bacon grease dripping from my fingers. Thankfully, the napkins were plentiful.

It only makes sense that Iowans celebrate their love of bacon. As the top pork-producing state in the nation, bacon is part of our heritage. Nearly every Iowan has a connection to the pork industry, either directly or indirectly.

Iowa farmers are known for raising the best pork in the world, and we should be proud of their accomplishments. After all, could you imagine a world without bacon – on your burger, your omelet or even your salad? So whenever you hear bacon sizzling in a pan, feel free to shout out: “Ohhh, bacon!” You’ll be in good company.

Written by Teresa Bjork
Teresa is a features Writer for the Iowa Farm Bureau.