Signs, Questions, and Uncertainty OH MY!

The difficulty inherent in my project was vaguely clear to me from the moment of its conception. In fact, it is the very difficulty of undertaking and then sustaining a localvorian diet that makes such a move significance. That our food ways extend so far and are so entangled (and obscured) makes local sustainable farming precious, and the bounty of co-op bins and farmer's market baskets is so singular, even sacred. These have an identifiable source. One you can touch. Smell. Nourish with your hands, and be in turn nourished by. And in a world feed predominantly on the mass produced pearls of major agribusinesses, a diet of waxy fruit and simulated freshness, a mouthful of organic, locally produced peach is sacred . The strangely over size apples and the sallow, tasteless bananas marketed in super markets and grocery stores as the flavors of a fresh, healthy diet come of origins often unknown, and by way of unsustainable sacrifice to the environment. For many, it may be fair to say that in fact their origin is the selves and bins of the markets where consumers find them. Beyond that, the average consumer, often has few ways of knowing- but in many cases may assume their foods derive from mass, environment depleting farms and orchards of massive agribusinesses.

And yet, even when health and the environment are concerned, it is not so easy to denounce the neon-lit orchards of the super market. When we struggle simply to find time to cook dinner, talk to our loved ones, or simply just be human it is a lot to ask a person to consider where each and every one of the foods they eat originate, and how each was produced. Few people have the time, the patience, or conviction to "do the work" of conscious consumption (be it economic or bodily). Even my boyfriend, a remarkably socially conscious man, when talking about my project suggested that the work inherent in undertaking a localvorian diet discouraged him from doing it himself. And it's true it does take work. The difficultly of such a practice goes far beyond making dietary sacrifices (like chocolate or tea); it involves developing and sustaining a level of awareness and commitment that I've yet to encounter in anything else I've done in my life. Of course it does, we're talking about trying to circumvent a huge and complicated system with global reach that controls in large part the diets of millions of consumers. Even beyond that, we're talking about circumventing long-standing agricultural practices that have taken on the form of institutions. We're talking about circumventing industrial farming, agribusiness, food distribution, importing, exporting, even the dietary myths of a culture that believes in the maximum variety of choices. Above and beyond all else, we're talking about challenging a culture that regards the earth as the property and pantry of humanity. This is a culture who's very grocery stores are a testament to our unwillingness as consumers to yield to the boundaries of space and time when it comes to our food. The presence of out season fruits and vegetables, products flown, trucked, trained, or shipped from the farthest reaches just so we can have lemons or pineapple in winter, says much about the sense of entitlement that governs our food ways. When you consider that to simply eat food produced of your own regional environment is challenge all of this. To commit to eating from origins identifiable; to support farmers and foodways in your community; to support a system of food production that depletes the earth; to simply be deeply conscious of what you consume is to remove your own sense of entitlement and to deny yourself wants and desires that exceed your place on the earth. But it is also, to commit to learning and searching for information. Because you cannot consciously consume if you don't have the information to make informed choices.

And that brings me to another challenge I recently became cognizant of. It can be extremely difficult to locate the necessary information about the origins and production of a huge variety of foods. Even organic markets that cater to the local farming movement (if we might call it that) provide ample oportunities for confusion and uncertainty for the localvorian. I'd not yet considered that I might have to closely scrutinize the products at stores like PCC or even large farmer's markets like Pike Place until taking a tour of the stalls at each this past (long) weekend. Let me explain...

Early Monday morning, my boyfriend and I headed down to Pike Place camera in hand to peruse the selection and talk with vendors about their origins. We arrived as many were setting up the stalls, unpacking the flowers, honey, and ripe produce that would feature in countless tourist's photographs of the market. I spent the majority of my time photographing the produce and flowers whose rich colors lit the dim corridors of the market. While photographing a heap of ripe fruits I noticed that many originated out of state, some from as far away as California. The thought occurred to me that local markets such as this do not necessarily supply only local produce, a thought that though not incredibly provocative revealed the need for me to define what a local meant in the context of my project. Is it acceptable, I thought, to buy and consume the products of sustainable farming in other regions? Is it acceptable, to buy products at co-op's and markets that support local sustainable farmers even if the products are not local to my area? I began to contemplate the California oranges and the sticky, golden honey combs I'd hoped to buy with a sense of concern. The oranges came from a family farm in California, and the honey came from hives from a farm at the foothills of the Cascades...was one more acceptable in my diet than the other?

Over by the piles of fresh caught fish, Dan talked with a monger about buying three pounds of Lake Washington crawdads for dinner...were these more acceptable in my diet than red rose-colored flesh of the Alaskan caught salmon, draped across the ice packed stall? Was an Idaho-farmed tilapia more or less localvorian than the writhing bag of insect-like crawdads Dan later bought? Suddenly, I became powerfully aware of the difficulty of defining the local of a localvorian diet. It is difficult, certainly to sketch imaginary boundaries to my consumption, but necessary. Will I support Washington State farmers as a whole, or will I support Eastern Washington farmers only? How will I define my local foodways, to what extent will I allow them to reach? Likewise, I must ask myself whether it is acceptable to justify buying non-local products from sustainable farmers elsewhere or from local farmers markets and co-op's on whose purchase they rely in part.

I am not giving some conscious grocers their dues though. While, certainly it became clear to me that I cannot just assume that local markets = local food, nor can I overlook the flexibility of the word local itself, the grocers I visited this weekend did demonstrate a willingness to inform the public about their products. In some cases (as with packaged or prepared foods for instance) it takes a higher degree of scrutiny and the bravery to ask a few questions to the folks behind the counter (or if necessary the manager) to locate the origins of certain foods. And certainly, there are cases even at PCC, what I consider one of the more progressive organic markets in Washington, where no conclusive answers can be found. But, the willingness of some grocers to educate the public, and encourage them to buy locally produce products is evident. Most notably at PCC informative tags and signs identify the origin of produce, sometimes regionally (as in "grown in California") and sometimes giving the specific farm name (like "River Valley Organics"). Little tags on dried goods and other items in the store also identify and encourage the purchase of local products. The tags proclaim that the purchase of a specific product supports local producers (a look at the box yields the name and location of the producer). I was surprised to see even in Uwajimaya the presence of some of the most informative signs I've ever observed. Some provided a good amount of detail about the taste, possible use, and origin of the produce, others offered up recipes, and one other explained how an "unusual windstorm" in Coachella, California destroyed hot climate crops like peppers and eggplant, depleting the selection and driving whole sale prices up. This last sign went on to promise relief when Fresno's crops go to harvest, and promised to supply alternatives until then. I was impressed by the willingness of these grocers to supply their consumers with information such as this- information that encourages knowledgeable consumption in a very real way. Certainly, both grocers market products that do not originate locally, and it may be argued that the ambiguity around concepts like sustainable (what is sustainable? what isn't?) and organic, like local, complicates their ability to promise you environmentally friendly, guaranteed organic, let along local food. But there is at least an effort to support and encourage customer's right to know about the products they buy, and that makes me hopeful.

Over the next few weeks, as I begin to transition my diet I will be working on answering these questions for myself. I can say that I intend to restrain my consumption to local, sustainable farms in Washington State only. I will however get my protein, soy milk, and condiments (which include spices, salt, and for the time being sugar) from local co-op's. My goal is to navigate the difficulty of eating consciously, and locally, but not at the expense of my health. It is important to me to eat roundly and maintain a vegetarian diet, and it is in that mindset that I will allow certain concessions (like soy milk or tofu). As a girl with a sweet tooth, and a high grade addiction to tea I anticipate the difficulty of going without those foods I do not need, but want. As a girl with a history of eating disorders I anticipate also the difficulty of not having access to the array of diet foods that have allowed me to eat "light." I've lived on a strident diet of low calorie, low or non-fat food for over three years and worry about giving up 40-calorie bread for the thick, heavy loaves at the co-op, among other things. I worry about not being able to satiate a sweet tooth with 60 calorie pudding packs or 25 calorie hot chocolate. I worry about not having gum to chew instead of food. But I also recognize that these worries derive from a backwards desire to trade food for "food" and fullness for thinness. It is not beyond my reasoning ability to recognize that I will be trading diet foods for whole foods, and may as a result relearn what food and eating is. But my anxieties about weight (be they rational or not) should be acknowledge among the difficulties inherent in this project. As I suggested earlier, I not just talking about eating food, I am talking about going up against a system and a culture that is ingrained deeply in my own way of being, in my desires, my anxieties, and my beliefs about myself. But, I'd rather think of it as reconnecting my body with the earth that sustains it. I'd rather think of it as relearning what it means to be nourished, and full.

So, here is to the difficulties, the hard work, and the search for awareness. That which makes difficult, in this case also makes sacred.