Article:
Interest stirred by commercial-grade composting
Philadelphia Inquirer
by Sandy Bauers | Inquirer Staff Writer
Nov 27, 2009
WILMINGTON - For now, it's mostly just a flat expanse of asphalt and wood chips, swept by a chilly wind off the Delaware River.
But come Monday, trucks loaded with tons of vegetable scraps and bits of meat will begin rolling into what officials say is the largest food-waste composting facility on the East Coast.
Here at the 27-acre Wilmington Organic Recycling Center, about 500 tons of food and yard waste a day will be transformed - in a matter of weeks - into soil and mulch.
Officials say the $20 million facility promises to spur already-rocketing interest in composting among supermarkets, restaurants, universities, hospitals, and others with large-scale food operations.
Once deemed the backyard bastion of latter-day hippies, food-waste composting has supersized into an industry.
One concern is that, since the industry is still in its infancy, facilities are few and far between. Food waste sometimes has to be transported long distances, with the fuel use and diesel emissions blunting the environmental benefits.
Proponents say that as the industry grows and facilities are built, transportation inefficiencies will lessen. And the effort helps businesses with high food usage approach one of sustainability's holy grails - zero waste - while fighting climate change, too.
Heightened interest in composting is spawning a variety of new companies.
One entrepreneur, Timothy Bennett of South Philadelphia, makes midnight runs in his truck to pick up food waste from 65 homes and businesses, then composts it in community gardens.
In February, Rocco D'Antonio started a New Jersey company, Organic Diversion, that designs collection systems for facilities and picks up the waste. Customers include the four hospitals and an outpatient clinic owned by Virtua in Marlton.
Ned Foley, a labor lawyer, quit to start a commercial composting operation on his Two Particular Acres farm in Royersford, Montgomery County. Three years ago, he was begging for food scraps. Now, he is all but inundated with requests.
He thinks the new Wilmington plant will compel haulers to put together programs for diverting food waste. "The other thing is, frankly, he's a price-driver. He's going to set the standard," Foley said.
Estimates of the amount of food waste generated in the nation vary widely, but according to the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, about 25 percent of the prepared food in the nation is never eaten. In 2008, about 31 million tons of food waste was simply thrown away.
When it winds up in the oxygen-starved environment of a landfill, the food does not decompose. Instead, it putrifies and gives off methane, a greenhouse gas that is 21 times more potent than carbon dioxide.
The science of composting is fairly simple: Mix organic wastes in the proper proportion, add air and water, and nature takes over. Microbes reduce it to rich dirt that can be returned to the land, reducing the need for fertilizers.
Proponents say composting saves money, too.
Priscilla Hayes, a composting expert at Rutgers University, said that while landfill tipping rates vary, a rule of thumb is that it costs 25 percent less to compost food waste than to landfill it.
San Francisco recently provided a national example by requiring that all food waste - from homes and businesses - be composted. One study estimated 36 percent of the city waste stream was compostable. The law went into effect Oct. 21.
Historically, Philadelphia's food waste was "recycled" by pigs; farmers made regular treks to restaurants and other facilities to collect the refuse.
As time passed, most pig farms gave way to suburban houses, and the food was rerouted to the landfill.
City sustainability director Katherine Gajewski said that the city's waste and recycling infrastructure could not handle separating food waste now.
"But we recognize that it's potentially a huge opportunity down the road."
Nationwide, "there's a lot of pent-up demand," said David Hill, chairman of the legislative and environmental affairs committee for the U.S. Composting Council.
"Frankly, I think we do ourselves a disservice by calling it waste," he said. "What we're doing is making fuller use of our resources."
Some observers worry that mistakes could scuttle interest in food-waste composting.
In the '80s, the nation was similarly poised to embrace large-scale composting, but "a number of bad players" gave the industry a bad name, said Maurice Sampson, president of Niche Waste Reduction & Recycling Systems Inc., of Philadelphia.
With so much activity, "if any one [project] goes south, it could affect the growth of the whole industry," he said.
Perhaps the biggest hurdle is trying to find a place to do industrial-scale composting.
New Jersey had hoped to attract a business like the Wilmington facility, said Rutgers' Hayes, the director of the statewide Solid Waste Resource Renewal Group. But, for many reasons, that did not happen. Instead, the state has several smaller operations.
The Wilmington center had its origins in a state law banning yard cuttings and trimmings from the waste stream. A state official phoned Nelson Widell, who over the last quarter-century has built 15 industrial-size plants worldwide. (And, yes, he still composts in his backyard.) Would he build a plant in Delaware?
Widell said he would be interested if he could include food waste. Only then could he realize the full synergies of composting. "Brown" yard waste provides the carbon, while "green" food waste delivers the nitrogen. Both are needed. Unlike backyard compost piles, these industrial-size operations can incorporate food products of all kinds.
Officials with Peninsula Compost Co. L.L.C., formed for the project, found a property near Interstate 495 and the port, which is the nation's primary entry for banana and fresh-fruit imports - at least some of it likely past the point of edibility.
Within half a mile, however, was Southbridge, a residential community with pollution concerns already, and people were worried the facility would reek.
Peninsula had already planned to use a technology that involves covering the decomposing material with Gore-Tex fabric - the stuff of snazzy raingear - which lets in air, but will not let larger odor particles pass, Widell said.
Peninsula Compost took three residents to similar facilities near Nantucket and Seattle, and they gave a favorable report to the community.
Then Peninsula signed a "community-benefits agreement," promising to use minority contractors and to hire from the community.
So far, Peninsula has come through as promised, said Marvin Thomas, president of the civic association.
The company also agreed to reroute trucks around the community and staff a 24-hour hotline in case there were odor problems.
At a time when the economy was near a low ebb, the facility got a loan from a local bank. As of last week, Peninsula Compost had commitments for 60 percent of its capacity, said Brian Schaffer, Peninsula's general manager.
One of Peninsula's customers is Whole Foods, which plans to send waste from at least four of its Delaware Valley stores - seven to 10 tons a week per store - said its sustainability officer, Mark Smallwood.
Audits of store-waste streams show that 60 percent of it can be composted.
"Nelson's facility is state-of-the-art, brand-new," Smallwood said, "and, man, we just need a bunch more like his."