If used to its full potential,
food does more than nourish our physical bodies. Food also provides
unique opportunities for artistic expression, social interaction,
and psychological enrichment. In an endless cycle of transformations,
food serves as an essential link between humans and the environment.
We have few relationships so fundamental to our overall well-being,
and yet our connection to food is being taken more and more for
granted.
I come from a family of good cooks, so growing up, I was blessed
with an amplitude of fine food. Collectively, however, it seems
like many of my kinfolk are spending a lot less time in the kitchen
these days. As a result, there is a widening separation between
the finished meal and its "roots." I have farmers in my
ancestry (who doesn't?), but very few in my extended family grow
any of their own food now. There is not even much food being processed
at home (milled, fermented, canned, baked, etc.) anymore. As for
many families, more and more of our food choices today rely on packaged,
store-bought and ready-made items.
After leaving home for college, several experiences abroad awakened
my appreciation of how meaningful a living connection to one's food
can be. As one of many adventures, I recall a trip to the Adriatic
to visit the family of an Italian friend. When I got there, I noticed
the bathtub was full of fresh tomatoes. A younger brother was busily
gathering pine nuts from outside the apartment. They were a poor
family, but that night I ate a meal fit for a king: fresh, homemade,
delicious. I have come to admire cultures that take the time to
prepare and enjoy finely crafted meals, even when their means are
meager. And, I have learned there is no better way to find common
ground with others than around a vital and inviting hearth. Kitchens
with cold hearts hold little promise for generating warm-hearted
cultures.
Intent to learn more about food myself, I later worked as a natural
foods chef. My primary mentor in the art was a Jewish woman of Mexican
birth. She was diagnosed with Stage IV lymphoma in her late 40s
and was told by the doctors she would have six months to live if
she followed their prescription of chemotherapy and radiation. She
declined their offers. Instead, she followed the (ancients') advice
of prayer and fasting, and eventually taught herself how to cook
real food. I remember standing in front of the tables she prepared
in awe of the energy they radiated. She did eventually die of cancer,
but after having lived the "10 best years" of her life--
and with an exuberance that brought light to many. My experience
in the macrobiotic and whole foods communities taught me much about
the healing powers of food-- something which is still too often
overlooked in our quest for medical "cures." As the great
Greek physician Hippocrates once said, "Let food be your medicine,
and medicine be your food."
Eventually, I started to pay more attention to farmers. As a cook,
the relationship between food quality and food production practices
became clearer. The old organic wisdom that healthy plants aren't
possible without healthy soils made sense to me. Through my food
choices, I wanted to support those involved in responsible land
stewardship not only because they grow great tasting food, but because
they are helping to ensure that future generations will be able
to enjoy good food as well. I have since learned that our (land-based)
regional growers are one of our most precious cultural resources
and that there is a nobility in stewardship that we should all try
to become a part of. Support your local agriculture! Or, better
yet, become a part of it.
Eating is one of the most intimate encounters we have with the
world around us. We would do well to learn (or perhaps relearn)
how to treat it as the sacred act it is. In the frantic drive (thru)
to commodify food, to "convenience" it, and to mutate
it to our whim, we only distance ourselves from the opportunity
it offers us in our search to find-- and to experience-- living
bonds to our Source. When we think of the importance of "whole
foods," we should remember that "whole" has the same
(Germanic) root as the words "holy," "health"
and "to heal."
Lending richness to the pageant of the feast takes more than money.
Nourishment for health and healing is something science can facilitate
but can't provide alone. And feeding the world will take more than
a global marketplace. Those can be tools in helping to meet basic
human needs. But let's not mistake the means for the end. What good
are our wealth, our technologies and our resources if we can't use
them to find health and happiness through meaningful connections
to the land and to each other?
Hunter Francis is Program Coordinator for the
Sustainable Agriculture Resource Center at Cal Poly State University,
San Luis Obispo, California.
