On Monday night, 75 people piled into a Kansas City, Mo., church to catch a free screening of "Mad City Chickens," a documentary from Tarazod Films that chronicles the resurgence of the urban chicken.

Unfortunately, like many U.S. cities, Kansas City makes it nearly impossible to have even just a few hens in the backyard. Chickens are only considered legal residents if their coop is 100 feet from the nearest home or business; they're certainly not allowed to roam. But the more people focus on eating locally, the more chickens pop up in backyards all over the United States (and Kansas City for that matter), legal or not.

Up until a few years ago, Madison, Wis., ("Mad City") banned urban chickens, forcing more than a few rogue backyard farmers -- known then as "the Chicken Underground" -- to get the law changed ... if they wanted to keep their chickens, that is. Now Madison is a veritable backyard chicken oasis, and serves as the backdrop for "Mad City Chickens."

Read about Big Tiny the rooster and Consuela the hen after the jump.

Photo: Gameops.com

Forget the concession stands: Minor league baseball teams down South are focusing on the food on the field.

While parks across the country compete to come up with the cheesiest, greasiest, most artery-clogging concoction (see the Gateway Grizzlies' donut burger and the Stockton Ports' deep-fried asparagus), Southern teams -- perhaps conceding that there's unhealthy food aplenty on the other side of their turnstiles -- have become early adopters of a new line of mid-inning promos featuring food.

The Rome Braves this summer joined fellow South Atlantic Leagues in offering its fans the chance to "Build el Burrito" by racing across the field to gather up rice, lettuce and tomato-colored pom-poms in a foil tortilla, all in pursuit of, say, a free oil change. Similar physical challenges featuring pizza and burgers are also catching on from Louisville to Laredo, says Jenny Oblock, who handles marketing for game maker GameOps.

François Payard. Photo: Alex Van Buren

"It's OK," François Payard told the assembled schoolchildren, many of whom looked suspicious. "The first time my girlfriend made me this pizza I tried to run out the door."

A world-renowned chef consoling kids about the charms of pizza? There's a role reversal. But many of them had folded their arms and were eyeing the pastry czar as he basted a whole wheat pita with sauce, lentils and -- gasp -- tofu. New Yorkers, even young ones up, know their pizza pies. Tofu is not usually part of the bargain.

The reaction to those pizzas and soy chocolate mousse, after the jump.

Over the past five years, the local food movement has helped spur the production of local artisanal cheeses in non-traditional dairy states, such as Nebraska, Illinois and Georgia. Although Vermont, California and Wisconsin remain cheesemaking hubs, other states are beginning to lead the way with farmstead cheeses like Little Bloom on the Prairie from Illinois, Georgia's Green Hill and Nebraska's Lancaster Duet.

Leslie Cooperband from Prairie Fruits Farm in Illinois and Charuth Loth from Farmstead First in Nebraska are both diversifying their farms and selling cheeses directly to customers at local markets.

"The perception of consumers is changing," Loth says. "People are starved for a connection with the farm." Loth and her fellow co-owner Krista Dittman laughed, saying that they feel they're engaging in "rural counseling" -- helping to reestablish a lost connection between food and the earth.

There's no doubt about it: The cheese boom is in full swing.

Over the past several years, specialty shops have blossomed across the country, from southern California to Maine (including Blue Fog Market, Fromagination and The Cave), all with super-dedicated cheese selections. This month renowned Brooklyn, N.Y., restaurant Franny's became the latest eatery to open its very own specialty food shop, Bklyn Larder, just down the street.

Aside from an array of prepared foods cooked by chef Travis Post, Bklyn Larder has its own cheese room, with an appropriate humidity and temperature for aging and storing cheese. "This will enable us to carry larger amounts of cheese," says Francine Stephens, who, along with co-owner and husband Andrew Feinberg, co-founded the restaurant back in 2004.

In September of 2007, Feinberg attended the Slow Flood cheese festival in Bra, Italy to seek out unique and tasty cheeses to eventually carry at the still-in-the-planning-stages Larder. They can all be spied through the glass window of the shop's aging room. (Food voyeurs -- you know who you are -- beware!)

Photo: A sad culinary scene at Bonnaroo

Nearly 80,000 people descended on a farm in Manchester, Tenn., last weekend for Bonnaroo, a four-day music festival headlined by 1990s jam band Phish and rock star Bruce Springsteen. Because most of the attendees camped on the 700-acre site -- and individual tickets started at a whopping $225 -- most festival goers opted to forgo food from pricey vendors and rough it.

By noon each day campsites were filled with empty PBR cans, half-empty industrial-sized jars of generic peanut butter and remnants of canned beans warmed over propane ranges. A few industrious music lovers, however, weren't going to let a lack of gas or electricity keep them from eating well.

More photos, bison chili, pork chops and Rotel after the jump.

Just as the nation's gourmands have reached consensus on the superiority of country ham (the traditionally dry-cured hind hog quarter considered by some to be the culinary equal of Italy's prosciutto), one leading exemplar of Southern dining has practically shunted the dish off its menu.

Country ham is still available at Dillard House, the venerable North Georgia boardinghouse that's been overfeeding diners since 1915, but it's no longer among the dozens of all-you-can-eat plates automatically placed on every table. In the culinary equivalent of appointing a new porcine first chair, the restaurant has put sugar-cured "city" ham on its default dish list.

"We still have the country ham in the back for the old-timers who ask for it," a server told us when we visited last month. "But most people today seem to like the sugar-cured."

Sunday afternoon, midwesterners packed a small independent movie theater in Kansas City, Mo., for a screening of the new documentary "Fresh," which takes a close and at times disturbing look at factory farming in the United States. Along with its director, Ana Sofia Joanes, "Fresh" (click the trailer above) is wending its way across the country in the hopes, Joanes said at a panel discussion between two sold-out screenings, of "changing the misconception that we need the industrial food system." This isn't the first new anti-Big Farming flick to hit the silver screen, so we're calling a trend.

"Fresh" follows the lives of four farm families, including a Missouri hog farmer who exterminated his industrial stock after being gored by one of his hogs and doctors found that he was resistant to most antibiotics. Michael Pollan and John E. Ikerd, Professor Emeritus of Agricultural Economics at the University of Missouri, make cameos as talking heads.

The real star, however, may be the swoon-worthy (if you like the rugged type) sustainable Virginia farmer Joel Salatin, who has the vocabulary of a professor and no shame about embracing "the chickenness" of his hens when greeting them with a "Good morning, girls!" each day.

Since they've thoroughly explored every nook and cranny of the pig, it seems reasonable to expect offal-loving chefs to turn their attentions to the chicken.

This theory is most assuredly not shared, however, by the lovely lady who mans the phones at Blue Plate Roadside Cafe, a retro Southern comfort food joint in Sandy Springs, Ga.

"Gizzards?" she blurts when we inquire if they're on the menu. She sounds as though we've chased down an obviously lousy tip: "No, no, no, not gizzards, never."

Many savvy Southern eaters are still saying no to gizzards, a humble food that's retained its stigma -- it is, after all, the tough, lower stomach pouch of the bird -- despite a wonderfully chewy, fatty flavor. But a few brave chefs are quietly sneaking gizzards onto their menus, elevating a poultry part oft dismissed as a poor man's food to a starring role.

True to cliché, countless failed country stars stream out of Nashville with their money spent, spirits broken and nothing but a nasty hot chicken habit to show for their Music City sojourn. It's an addiction many twangsters say they just can't kick.

"Lorrie Morgan turned me onto it," recalls Rocky Lindsley, a former back-up drummer for country music stars including the popular blonde singer. "I was paying a guy money to bring me that chicken [from six hours away]."

Veterans of the Nashville scene are partially responsible for a burgeoning hot chicken diaspora, introducing the city's fiery, tastebud-melting dish to brave eaters across the South. Lindsley, who now owns Rocky's Hot Chicken Shack in Asheville (east of Nashville), doesn't hesitate when asked to name his influence: "As a musician, I'm going to say who inspired me, whether it's Led Zeppelin or whatever, and I was inspired by Prince's."

Learn the bizarre side effects of hot chicken consumption after the jump.

"Loco for locavorism" might sound like some bizarro play on an old TV ad, but the phrase carries some heft these days, if the crowd at last night's Brooklyn Uncorked was any indication. The sip-and-nibble-fest in honor of local goods was jam-packed with tipsy oenophiles clutching wine glasses and munching on local pickles (garlicky!), rosé sorbet (brilliant!) and buzzed-about turkey meatloaf (by the time we got there, gone!). Dozens of local restaurants, wineries and producers were on the premises: as one sign bragged, no vinos were made more than a two-hour drive from Brooklyn.

Hyperlocalism isn't local to New York City, either. Edible Communities, whose Edible Brooklyn hosted the tasting, boasts more than 50 publications from Missoula, Wash., to Santa Fe, N.M. All feature the same bright, minimalistic food-focused design touting "local foods, season by season." If you believe that New York hearkens nationwide trends, well, like the Brooklyn Food Conference before it, this event was sold-out and about as crowded as could be.

Once upon a time not so long ago, the word "beer" prompted mental images of frat boys chugging Miller Lites. It did not, traditionally, scream "mother."

But times, they are a-changin', and more and more women are drinking beer these days. And despite the lingering stereotype of a "mom drink" as a chilled glass of chardonnay (not that there's anything wrong with that), some moms are definitely sipping suds. Heck, Carol Stoudt, mother of five, has adopted the moniker of "Queen of Hops" since opening Stoudt's Brewing with her hubby in 1987.

Asked about the perfect Mother's Day brew, Matt Barclay of Brooklyn (N.Y.)'s Bierkraft says, "most of our women customers drink the Belgian Tripel [style]." With fruit and candy flavors, Tripels can be sweet but also incredibly complex. If mom is a fan of sweet wines or desserts, try pouring her a Belgian ale after dinner, like an aromatic raspberry Lindemans Framboise lambic. If she's a chocolate freak, proffer a Chocolate Stout.

Or maybe your mom does sling back Miller Lite with the best of them. School us! Does your ma drink beer? What's her favorite brew? (Moms, don't feel shy about speaking out on your behalf!)

Beer cocktails are especially refreshing during warm weather months. They boast a lower alcohol content than mixed drinks with hard alcohol, and with so many great summer beers available, creating unique concoctions for the season is a breeze.

If you're not up to the heft and tequila of a margarita tomorrow (viva Cinco de Mayo!), consider the Michelada, which has been gaining some traction as a spicy summer alternative to the Bloody Mary. Order it at a bar or mix one up at home but give blah pre-packaged products like Budweiser Chelada a pass; make it yourself and spice it to taste.

Shandys (which generally consist of half pale ale or lager and half lemonade, ginger ale or lemon-lime soda) are a refreshing low alcohol substitute if you're looking to enjoy the sun without immediate inebriation. Using quality ingredients like homemade lemonade and a pale ale with natural citrus notes can produce amazing results.

Ty Fugimura, owner of The Small Bar in Chicago, believes his bar's unique list of six beer cocktails is a major draw. As the Windy City warms up, Fugimura knows "sidewalk sitters want something a little bit lighter," so Small Bar offers a "Beergarita," a twist on the classic tequila drink. In addition to adding white ale, they top it off with Monk's Cafe Flemish Sour Ale and Lindeman's fruity Framboise. Sounds pretty great to us. Got a beer cocktail recipe up your sleeve? Let us know. We're thirsty.

On one of the first gorgeous Saturdays of the spring, did Brooklyn foodies run to the park for picnic lunches or line the bars for springy cocktails?

Sure, some of 'em did. But 3,000 others, according to organizers, crammed the multicolored '70s-esque hallways of John Jay High School, aka P.S. 321, for a day of workshops, eats, panels and vendors called the Brooklyn Food Conference, promoting what a bright-yellow pamphlet trumpeted as "Local Action for Global Change."

Food world celebs roaming the halls included chef Dan Barber, speaker and TV host Anna Lappé and author-activist Raj Patel (whose classroom was so stuffed a volunteer had to turn fans away). Some attendees, all of whom attended for free, were a bit starry-eyed over certain sustainably-minded speakers. About Patel, local CSA organizer Meredith Modzelewski sighed, "I'm in love with him now."

Find out more and see photos after the jump.

A religious epiphany is sometimes known as "seeing the light." In the beer world, however, it's all about seeing past the light -- Bud Light, that is. Though Budweiser's low-calorie brew is America's most frequently slung beer, now that craft breweries make up our country's fastest growing suds sector, pint-sized prophets are creating converts.

This Slashfoodie's brew-piphany occurred in the late '90s on a tour of Berkeley, Calif.'s Pyramid Brewery, where a Hefeweizen opened our eyes to the world Beyond Bud. Back in Los Angeles, we began frequenting beer-centric bars like Barney's Beanery, attempting to sample all the beers on their extensive list.

We're not alone in our new faith: Middle school teacher turned beer connoisseur Damico Ponzio was first moved by a Belgian (Triple Karmeliet), but Ommegang's Three Philosophers was the first American craft creation that knocked him out: "It had a boatload of flavor and [was served in] a wine bottle with a cork! I was completely blown away." Since then, Ponzio's become one of millions of people who regularly visit online beer communities like RateBeer.com where beer nerds congregate happily.

Some converts even go on to become apostles. Asked about his "Ah-ha!" moment with beer, Marty Jones' response is immediate: Ballantine India Pale Ale. "My cousin married a member of the Ballantine family and we would have bottles of their IPA," he recalls fondly. Now, as marketing man for the Oskar Blues Brewery (source of beloved canned microbrew Dale's Pale Ale), Jones travels the country "seeking out the unredeemed."

Got a beer that put you on the path to superior suds?