Brainfood: Opportunity crops, meet your constraints

Nibbles: Frafra, Seed multiplication, Quality seeds, Balearic genebank, Indigenous trees double, Bruno cart, Belgian wild yeast

  1. Frafra potato is having a moment: an indigenous West African tuber, adored locally and mostly ignored by science, out looking for its big commercial break.
  2. Speaking of breakthroughs, this bus driver found his own, swapping the wheel for seed multiplication and turning five acres into a livelihood, proof that sometimes the missing link in a seed system is just someone willing to do the unglamorous middle bit well.
  3. Which is, per Farming First, precisely Africa’s problem at scale: only 2.5% of smallholder seed in Sub-Saharan Africa comes from formal seed companies, so a few million more bus-driver-style multipliers wouldn’t hurt.
  4. Meanwhile in the Balearics, the opposite direction of travel: the local seed bank is expanding to rescue tomatoes, onions and broad beans, and is looking for farmers willing to take them back.
  5. Indigenous fruit trees in Malawi turn out to fight malnutrition and biodiversity loss at once. Happy coincidence?
  6. Getting those trees into the ground well needs the same unglamorous groundwork as any good crop seed system: a Mongabay commentary argues that restoration campaigns skipping Indigenous and local seed knowledge are optimising for trees planted, not trees that survive.
  7. And once you’ve got the saplings in the ground, you might want to monitor how they’re doing: enter Bruno, a pushcart rigged with mobile phones that can collect field data. And not just for breeders.
  8. Finally, proof that not all genetic-resource hunting needs a genebank: Brussels brewers are getting people to comb the city for wild yeast, because the raw materials for a proper lambic turns is hanging around in urban trees.

Brainfood: Tree conservation from assisted migration to cryo

When farming worlds collide

When we think about crops moving around the world — and we often do around here — the Columbian Exchange is the canonical example, and why not? The transatlantic movement of maize, potatoes, tomatoes, cassava, and chili peppers to Europe, Africa and Asia, and of wheat, sugar, coffee, and livestock to the Americas, was profoundly transformative. It reshaped global agriculture and diets more dramatically than any single event in human history after the Neolithic.

But similar, if maybe smaller-scale, “exchanges” happened long before 1492. The deep history of agriculture features several ancient “mixing bowls,” let’s call them, where traditions from different geographic origins met and interacted in fascinating ways. These are natural experiments in how new crops become part of diversified farming systems, and I think they can be especially useful in thinking about “opportunity crops.”

Usually, by opportunity crops we mean local or regional crops that were perhaps once more important, and then declined. Or, even if they were never very important, they could still do more, given the chance, whether for diets or incomes, or resilience: indigenous fruits and vegetables, forgotten grains, traditional tubers, you know the kind of thing. Their local resurgence is a crucial path to diversification, for sure. But those agricultural mixing bowls suggest that crops from the outside also have a role in enriching local farming.

Continue reading “When farming worlds collide”

There are no opportunity crops

At least, not in any biological sense.

No plant is born an “opportunity crop.” It becomes one when somebody finds a way to make its particular combination of characteristics valuable, in a particular context.

That does not make the term useless. It can be a convenient way to describe crops whose potential seems underdeveloped, or whose qualities come to matter more under changing climates, diets and markets. But the phrase can also mislead. It can make opportunity sound like something that resides in a species or variety.

But consider the Georgia peach. Today, the US state of Georgia is almost synonymous with peaches, at least to Americans. But it was not always so. The fruit arrived in North America with the Spanish in the mid-1500s1, spreading rapidly through the Southeast from seed, almost weed-like. For generations, peaches were mostly a local resource, made into pies, fed to livestock or turned into brandy.

As William Thomas Okie recounts in a recent piece in Smithsonian Magazine, it took deliberate selection and breeding, better production practices, research, transport and access to distant markets to turn the peach into a commercial industry — and eventually the icon it is today.

The lesson is not that peaches are in any way special. It’s almost the opposite.

When we talk about “opportunity crops” in the Global South, we often seem to be looking for crops that already possess a particular combination of characteristics: nutritious, climate resilient, locally adapted, culturally valued and perhaps capable of generating income.
But why should opportunity be an intrinsic property of a crop?

All crops contain genetic variation. Some of that variation may become valuable because of a new breeding objective, a new processing technology, a change in consumer preferences, a new market or simply changing environmental conditions.

We cannot know all of those opportunities in advance. Nobody knew in advance that the peach presented an opportunity in the American South.

The Georgia peach story also reminds us that an opportunity is not necessarily an opportunity for all. That industry developed within a society shaped by slavery and racial inequality, and its commercial success depended on agricultural labourers who didn’t much share in the value they helped create. If a neglected African crop becomes commercially valuable, who controls the breeding, seed, processing and markets. Who gets paid?

This does not mean that every crop deserves the same investment. Resources are limited, and choices have to be made. But it does suggest that the most useful question may not be “Which crops are opportunity crops?” but rather “Where is there diversity from which new opportunities could be created?”

This is why we need genebanks. They preserve options, not predictions. A crop or variety that looks unremarkable today may contain a characteristic that becomes valuable tomorrow.

Perhaps, then, we should stop thinking of opportunity crops as a special category of crops, waiting to be discovered. The real opportunity lies in maintaining enough diversity across all crops to keep our options open for whatever the future may bring.