an introduction

Food happens to be my favorite thing. It's powerful. And political. Moral and personal. And better shared.

Food, by far, is one of the most important parts of our lives. It's one of our most basic needs, residing next to things like air and water. Without it, we would be here no more than we would be without reproduction.

So, it makes sense that we place so much of ourselves, so much of who we are, into the food we eat; that we define cultures according to what is consumed.

We've evolved alongside what we eat: We like salt—crave it, actually—for a specific reason. We gorge ourselves on fats and sugars not because we lack self-control (though perhaps we do), but because our genetic makeup demands it of us.

And now, at the very least all over the United States, folks are being asked to look more closely at their food: Where it comes from; how it's grown; who's growing it; what's put on it (or what's not); and so on. Some folks are asking the questions based off concerns regarding the healthfulness of the product. Others are looking at morality. And others are asking because they're trying to figure out the environmental impact. That's what I'm interested in. 

And there have been a lot of potential solutions, ways to seemingly just cut one thing out of our diets as the be all end all fix to every environmental issue. But it feels more complicated than that to me. Which means that I don't necessarily believe the choice I'm going to be making with my diet in the next month is a foolproof solution. But I'm interested in what it has to offer, and I think parts of it could certainly reduce the affects I'm having on the environment.

I decided to start the process by figuring out what kinds of foods I was eating and how wide a variation I had in my diet. I’ve spent most of my life as a meat and potatoes gal, but my grocery list says something different now. 

So, I decided to make a list of the things I eat the most. I thought my food range would be wider, since I have access to such a wide selection at the grocery store, but instead I realized it’s actually quite small. 

I eat a lot of dairy (from different cheeses, to yogurt, and cottage cheese), beans (garbanzos, black, kidney), pasta, tomatoes, onions, garlic, peppers, bananas, honey, lentils, eggs, granola, and mushrooms. I try to always have some kind of berry in my fridge. Lately, I’ve been eating more carrots and greens. For some reason, I’ve really been enjoying crackers. Roughly once a month, I consume a disgusting amount of popcorn. Sometimes, I go on a tuna kick—it’s always accompanied by lots of dill pickles. I love hot sauce, and my spice shelf is full. I cook with coconut, sunflower, and olive oils. Sometimes, I use butter. I drink quite a bit of black coffee. Occasionally, I’ll buy myself a bottle of pinot noir. If I’m out with friends, I drink beer. I don’t usually cook with meat, but if I eat out, I almost always order something with it. Every once and a while, I’ll make a potato soup with loads of cream and cheese and carrots and onion, celery, and ham.

I don’t eat the same things all the time. Or, rather, I do. I just spice them differently. I mix my beans and vegetables and make curry or stew or something loosely defined as Mexican. I make pasta with a sauce that’s cheesy or creamy (which is entirely different) or oil-based. I make poor attempts at stir-fried rice. Like someone with a capsule closet, I combine the staples, but with variations.

But food is more faceted than just what I’m putting on my plate. It’s about where I bought it. How it got there. Where it was to begin with. It’s looking at why my cookies, made with the same recipe, will never taste like my mother’s. It’s why a true New York bagel only happens in New York. It’s why Belgium has the best French fries in the world. It’s why we like our cheese curds from Wisconsin and our butter from Ireland. It’s why everyone who’s had the pleasure of a croissant from France poopoos on croissants from anywhere else.

It’s all about how it’s made. Start to finish.


My 100-mile food radius for the next month.
And since I live in Iowa, where there’s beautiful soil that makes growing lots of things an option, and since buying local is quite vogue right now, and there’s a plethora of farmers markets near me, and because everyone used to do it anyway, I’ve made the decision to eat only locally grown and produced foods during the month of July 2019. To be more specific, I’ll be eating as a veggie-leaning locavore, within a 100-mile radius, for the next month.

I chose this option—being a locavore—partially because I can. I have a large range of foods at my disposal purely because of where I live. And it’s mid-summer, which means that that variety is at its peak. I also have a car I can use to take me directly to the farms I’ll be getting my food from, and I have loads of farmers markets within walking distance of my house. I’m also able to make the financial investment (think processed food prices compared to fresh produce prices). To say I am not privileged in making this decision would be a lie.

It is, however, going to be a solid shift in my diet. Right now, the only locally produced things in my pantry are the honey and sunflower oil. I have a garden, but it consists purely of a singular tomato plant and a singular bell pepper plant (I had basil and rosemary, but they’ve both shriveled up and died.) And by pure luck, I happen to live in a house that has a mulberry tree in the front yard.

So, the challenge now becomes finding new places to buy my food. And working around all the things I can’t eat, or drink. Think coffee, pineapple, avocados, peanut butter, mangoes, bread and pasta—unless I manage to locate someone growing and grinding their own wheat. And then there’s all the spices—curry seasoning just goes right out the window. Forget about sugar cane, freshly ground pepper, and all those meat rubs folks love. I am, however, making an exception for salt. Since I need that to live.

But—as I alluded to before—I’ll still have some solid variety. Since Iowa (and that northern portion of Missouri I have access to) has incredibly fertile soil, I can still eat things like watermelons, mushrooms, Brussels sprouts, and eggplant. I have access to a slew of herbs, honey, meats, and cheeses. And it's all within roughly an hour and a half drive from my house (though a lot of it is available right here in Des Moines).

So, cheers, to this exciting food adventure.

I’m so [egg]cited to start!

Best,
Clarissa

PS—Keep your eye out for a spreadsheet of what the prices are for the food I’m buying (and comparable prices at the grocery store). I’ll also be keeping y’all up-to-date on what I’m cooking. And, in case you want to implement a less extreme version of this into your own life, I’ll be offering tips I learn along the way, growers to buy from, seasonal options, and more (though a fair amount of this will be directed towards folks in Iowa, since that’s where I’m located.)

Comments

  1. Save your aunt some mulberries please, very interesting

    ReplyDelete

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