A life of convenience
In our modern day, we Americans live a life of convenience. For most of us, our essentials are taken care of. We have shelter, water, food, electricity, heating, and transport, just to name a few. These conveniences are the result of centuries of people before us striving to bring things about faster, cheaper, and on a bigger scale.
As a kid, I had no understanding of convenience. I did not know how people lived before. I always accepted that because that is how my family did things, this was how things were done. Water always came out of a faucet. Food always came from stores. Microwaves always heated food quickly when you didn’t want to cook. Houses always came with heaters, and you could always turn on lights when it got dark.
When I got older and learned that the entire world didn’t live this way, that did not change the way I lived. In the day-to-day, someone else’s situation won’t change ours unless our lives overlap in some tangible way.
But within the last few years, I’ve looked at my life as an American and wonder how the choices I make in my everyday life add up within the present and future of our world. Granted, personal changes may not make a difference to the bigger picture. But what if I worked towards culturally changing a few things, building habits up slowly? Giving up some conveniences could result in a more sustainable lifestyle. That is a pretty hard ask, and not one that can happen overnight.
When I look into the conveniences we’ve gained, I start to see what we have given up. Unsustainable practices might not even be available to us within the lifetime we have left, if we are lucky to reach old age.
Picking up some flour from local wheat producer Capay Mills at the farmers market
I’m mostly thinking about our food system, because that’s my work, and also linked to my overall health. I want to know where my food is coming from, and how it is processed before I eat it. I’m finding alternative choices less attached to supply chains and convenience.
This has become the foundation of our Home Meals. I’m aiming to create an ongoing program that mimics a zero carbon footprint. No single-use products, all ingredients coming from as close to home as possible.
I want to showcase what ingredients offer in terms of quality and flavor. These things get lost when we allow our diet to be controlled by processing and shelf stability. I want to use my cooking to explore the ways traditional cooking methods can help sustain our bodies for the long haul.
Secondly, I want to build sustainable ways to feed people when we start to see another crack in the supply of our global food chain. Where are we going to be when there comes time that another war breaks out, a new blight comes forth, or climate change strips our monoagriculture of growth for a season? How will we, who are so dependent on wheat and other staples, cope with the price increase or outright loss of foods we take for granted? Can you survive a week without your favorite breakfast cereal, a bag of chips, a sandwich, a box of pasta? Our nation flipped out because we ran out of toilet paper. What makes us think we will fare better if we can’t get a hamburger or a French fry?
I, for one, want to proactively create a small niche in this bigger picture. I want to provide neighbors food ready to reheat during times of crisis. For now, I’d love to share a meal when cooking for yourself or your family doesn’t feel realistic every day. And with my thought process in mind, you can rest assured that our meals will be more wholesome and nutritional than what you’d get from a fast food joint or restaurant.
