Much of the food we consume travels miles to reach our table; and yet all that we need to grow a healthy body may be sprouting in our own backyard.
I do my part. I recycle; buy local organic fruit and vegetables, free- range chicken and their eggs, make my own ghee from organic butter, but, not always. In fact often I bring home bags of dates, avocados, imported cheeses, wine from Chile, olive oil from Spain. Nothing local. Sometimes, especially when I eat out, I don’t know where my food comes from.
Recently I watched Now, Forager: A Film About Love and Fungi. It was filmed in gorgeous wilderness, brilliant deciduous autumn foliage, home to colorful mushrooms and fungi, wild turkey, great blue heron. The love story holds the tension between a guy ready to give up the cost of the apartment and travel down the coast selling mushrooms and foraging for food and his sweetheart seeking more stability and security working as a chef in an upscale neighborhood restaurant. When they go their separate ways for a while, each has their own personal adventure.
Much of the film is silent, the young man alone, hunting fungi and living off the land. For breakfast, he finds three eggs left by a wild turkey and scrambles them with wild onion and mushrooms in a pan over the fire. There are also wild greens and berries available. We see him catching a large fish off the coast and in precise detail, cut off the fins, debone the carcass, sever the head. Hunting fungi is not without danger. As his sweetheart points out before he leaves, he could fall, break a leg, the car frequently dies. Only nothing like that happens. Instead, he faces a pair of threatening men who find him alone in a remote wilderness and out of anger or sport plan to take advantage of his vulnerability. Finally they change their mind and our hero is spared the risks of living the simple life.
I can see the benefits of eating just what grows in my neighborhood, but I’m not going to change my diet. I have plenty of other things that cause me more than enough anxiety. Still, the film makes us take notice, how much of what we consume do we actually need. Fish, eggs, wild greens, mushrooms and berries, this would more than keep us well nourished for an extended period of time. Even if we ate only what grew in Washington state, wheat, apple orchards and grapevines growing just east of the Cascade Mountains would add plenty of variety to our menu.
This is the practice in many parts of the world. When I was in Italy visiting family, I was served local wine. Local meaning the wine made from the grape vineyards growing in the backyard and fermenting in the cellar. On the way home an article in the Northwest Airline magazine pointed out that while Americans are continually searching out the best wines for pairing, Italians always have the very best wine for the menu because it comes from their own district.
In India I lived with Brahmans. The breakfast table was set with homemade bread, jam and yogurt. For dinner there were two kinds of vegetables in a spicy sauce, rice, lentils, and flat bread. Sometimes yogurt was available. Sweet rice pudding was an after dinner favorite. The meal made a complete protein. Lunch was a luxury. I lost my interest in food. While my tongue was deprived of the cornucopia of diversity that we have in the States, I was wildly distracted, consumed by the profusion of other sensual delights, golden sunsets, women wrapped in orange, blue and pink cloth, piles of marigolds gilding temple stairways, melodic Hindu chants drifting through store front doorways, scent of saffron and jasmine, cardamom and cloves wafting from the spice shop. Consumption is not only for the mouth.
It is not as easy to eat local in the United States. There are so many aisles in the grocery store lined with tempting imported specialties, sweets and treats. Actually it is helpful to remember that we are spoiled if it makes us more grateful or generous.
Eating local eliminates the cost and waste of shipping food in refrigerated trucks over long distances. When we buy from local farmers relationships are formed and communities are strengthened. This is a good thing. As much as we can, we ought to practice preparing the bulk of our meals from fresh organic local sources. Of course indulgences with out guilt can be an expression of generosity if they keep us from becoming too grumpy, sweet cream in the coffee, a slice of Marion berry pie at Wagner’s.
We can set our own comfort level and pace ourselves as we step more fully into a lifestyle mindful of our habits of consumption. Any change begins with awareness, simply slowing down to notice how we feel about what we are eating and really tasting our food. We can think gratefully of all the people who helped bring it to the table, the plants and animals that sacrificed their lives for our sustenance. Whether we eat organic and local or not, this practice will shift our relationship with our community and ourselves.