There are certain questions that continue to fascinate us no matter how many times we ask them. Such questions are complex, deeply rooted in our human experience, and common the world over. When was the last time you looked down at your plate, be it breakfast, lunch or dinner, and asked yourself, “where did this food really come from?”
The question seems almost childish in its simplicity, and sixty years ago most people could have given you a pretty informed answer. Today, it would be a brave man or woman who would refuse to admit their own ignorance in the matter. The fact is both urban and rural populations have become dependent upon an industrial food chain that has disconnected us from the source of our own food. The questions to ask may be simple, such as “where did this apple come from,” or complex such as, “what was the cow fed that produced this meat and how healthy was it,” or “how many gallons of oil did it take to produce this loaf of bread?”
I used to believe that farmers possessed an edge on the urban masses when it came to overcoming our ignorance about food. I was always bemused, if not downright alarmed when farmers would remind me that today’s urban youth believe that food simply comes from the grocery store. While urbanites may barely understand that milk and beef come from cows, and bread comes from wheat, they are less apt and less capable of comprehending the connections between the food on their plate and the natural landscapes and processes that produced it.
Michael Pollan points out in The Omnivores Dillema that a trip down the aisles of your local supermarket could, and perhaps should be viewed as representing a “landscape teeming with plants and animals.” After all, even the most processed of our foods were once “some sort of formerly living creature.” Virtually “every item in the supermarket is a link in a food chain that begins with a particular plant growing in a particular patch of soil somewhere on the earth.”
Today’s farmers may possess a better understanding of the basic origins of all things edible, but few are any better informed than the rest of us regarding the details behind their modern diets. That’s because most farmers today are specialists, growing a large volume of only a few crops or livestock. The old days of producing most of one’s own food are long gone. Canning fruits and vegetables for the winter is nearly a lost tradition. Taking your surplus and bartering with the neighbors for eggs or fresh milk is little more than a nostalgic memory. Most farmers can remember growing up this way, but the supermarket has won out, even in our remaining farming communities.
But have we really lost anything with the decline and the demise of a local food culture? After all, we can now get canned, even fresh foods anytime of year, and at reasonably cheap prices at the local supermarket. Why should farmers bother with the growing, harvesting, and preserving of a wide array of foods that are now so easily and efficiently provided in one convenient location? Let farmers in Kansas grow wheat, those in California grow lettuce, and Georgians can stick to peaches, peanuts and chickens. Let everyone stay focused on their own singular efficiency and it will all get sorted out on the supermarket shelves.
Wendell Berry suggests that if we examine where our food comes from we will become perplexed and confused, and anytime that our most basic needs are beyond our own comprehension it creates anxiety. Americans are becoming increasingly helpless in providing their own sustenance locally. As a result we are becoming increasingly dependent upon a food system that fails to instill us with confidence in the basic integrity of our food. The modern food system excels at efficiency, but leaves us guessing in terms such as quality, taste, nutrition, and the true ecological, health and human costs behind those calories. If one peach was picked unripe by a hungry laborer in a third world country, sprayed with pesticide, and shipped 2,000 miles, while another peach was grown without pesticides, grown in good soils, picked ripe by a farmer who will receive the full dollar for every food dollar spent, and then turn around and spend that dollar in the community in which you live, which peach would you choose? In recent polls, 71% of Americans said they would be willing to pay more for food grown locally, near where they live, rather than far away.
I recently spent a few days on a small family farm in Eastern Colorado where they grew tomatoes, cucumbers, melons, corn, onions, squash, eggs, and pigs which they had processed into sausage. They also sold fresh fruits grown by a friend of theirs on the western slope of the Rockies. The farm, located just east of Pueblo, is called Country Roots Farm and is one of the only farms in Eastern Colorado that sells direct to consumers. They take some of their produce to a weekend farmers market in Colorado Springs, but the vast majority of their produce is sold or picked up right off their farm at a Saturday morning farm stand. Ryan Morris isn’t what you would call an extrovert, or a salesman, or even a “people person,” but he and his wife Betsy, his mother Virginia, and his son Reed, have amassed a loyal following. As I observed their Satuday morning ritual, it became obvious that a lot more was being exchanged than some simple food for some simple dollars.
Virtually everything being sold had been picked ripe within the last 24 hours. Many of Ryan’s customers would accompany him into the fields or out to the hen house where they could survey his farming practices, pick up the soil and smell it, and ask Ryan questions about this year’s harvest and next year’s plans. There he would explain his late season cover crop of Buckwheat, a succulent plant that brings in pollinators, or how he uses a simple vinegar and citric acid mix to control his weeds. Ryan’s five year old son Reed would play with the visiting children, and show them Roscoe the pig and how he gets to eat all the surplus or damaged zucchinis. “It’s a pretty good diet,” Ryan explains and it cuts his feed costs in half in the summer time.
Ryan’s mother Virginia sent Reed to gather some squash blossoms, contributing something of beauty to complement those items of nourishment sent home with each customer. After filling their bags with tomatoes and melons, most folks would stick around enjoying the sunshine and the companionship. Over the last few months of traveling, meeting people, and studying these things, I’ve begun to see where we derive much of the meaning in our lives and a good share of our happiness. The societal tradition that teaches us that success and happiness come through independence, competition, and self interest has proven insufficient. It contrasts poorly with the benefits of nurturing our relationships with others in our community, with the land, and with our food. It is our interdependence, not our independence that most accurately reflects reality.
So the question remains, “Where does your food come from?” Well the answer is it comes from the soil, from plants, from a patch of land under the sun, from animals, and from people. If you want to know the details about these ingredients, then you have to re-establish a relationship with these things. What better place to begin than in your local community?
If you have comments or suggestions for this article...send 'em on. Also, please encourage other venues for publishing these articles. Many thanks --Justin
I still enjoy reading about your travels! Almost there! I've been thinking about the T-shirt submissions and I think I should win since I started the whole weekly T-shirt contest. For my prize, a complimentary copy of your book when published.
So grateful to hear about your travels through Adventure Cycling's e-newsletter. Wow. Bravo, and thanks for what you're doing.
I worked on a WWOOF farm in the south of France in 2002 during a summer of bicycling Europe with tent and small accordion. I recall noticing throughout that trip that the musicmaking was best when it followed a day of hard work - whether on the bike or in the gardens - and when it was accompanied by good local food (and drink). It's a timeless combination I heartily recommend: well-earned rest, do-it-yourself music and food from close to home.
Like many, I suppose, I'd love to jump on the bike and join you, but I'll content myself with checking in on your journals now whenever I can. Safe travels.