Born Again Eaters

Having been reinvigorated by spending a good chunk of the workday perusing others' blogs, I submit the following as (it's been rumored) a long-anticipated update:

In January, we visited Wren Blessing and John Hanto at their home in Durham, North Carolina. The trip was a miracle--not only because we got to reunite with kindred spirits, or because we realized we live so far south that Durham is only four hours from us, but because it coincided with our reading Michael Pollan's book, The Omnivore's Dilemma--and those events together have, to put it succinctly, changed our life.

Wren and John lead a humble life, and I mean that in the best, most beautiful sense possible. Our weekend with them was filled with quiet woodland walks, warm hours of food-making and food-feasting, and rich conversations that would sate any appetite for love and connection. These were good things. These were simple pleasures, akin to the blissful and guiltless pleasure of being a child under a handmade quilt in the cold of winter, waking to frost-wisps on the window. * And even though we live in a city driven by prestige, power, progress and any number of other questionable "p" words, Ryan and I loved this life. We loved talking with John about the sinews drawn between the land and our souls; we loved baking peanut-butter-chocolate-chip cookies in the warm womb of the trailer kitchen; we loved basking on the rocks lining the nearby river; and we loved waking up to sunlight and birdsong, with Aurora--Wren and John's dog--curled around our feet.

All these loves coupled with an unexpected interest in what we read together each night after John and Wren went to sleep (we couldn't, despite being in the country, give up the citified habit of going to sleep after midnight): The Omnivore's Dilemma. In this book, which our friend Matt chose for our book club, Pollan addresses three main food systems: industrial agriculture (which most of us rely on), organic agriculture (which, he points out, is at best marginally better than eating industrially), and foraging (which, truth be told, we haven't read about yet). He objectively follows all three systems, illuminating the glories, fears, dangers, and benefits of each one as it relates to the larger economy, politics, environment, history, culture, and spirituality of our world. Instead of riding a high horse of criticism above all of these networks, Pollan navigates the connections between them (for example, farmland suffers because farmers don't allow it to lay fallow and don't diversify their crops because they plant only corn because it's in EVERYTHING--like plastic--because it's heavily subsidized because there's too much of it because oil is used in the fertilizers that make corn grow, aha). This makes him a credible, trustworthy narrator, to the extent that after a pragmatic (he never sensationalizes or scandalizes) chapter on how a calf in a field becomes a hamburger, Ryan turned to me and mumbled, "Maybe we should eat less meat."

[To eat less meat has been a desire of mine ever since I watched "Peaceable Kingdom" and discovered that chicks get their beaks snipped off to keep them from pecking at one another in their cramped pens. This led to the failed "no beef" Spring Break of 2005 (during which five companions watched me devolve into a ropa-vieja and cheeseburger fiend over the course of one wild week in Florida). But it's easier done with the support of a loved-one, and when Ryan said those six little words, it was all I could do to keep a proud, excited little smirk off my face as I looked at my meat-and-cheese mono-diet husband.]

After that epiphany, we packed our bags, bade a wistful goodbye to the little trailer and the happy blue-eyed couple in the backwoods of North Carolina, and fossil-fueled our way back up the coast, plotting our revolutionized lifestyle along the way. We had started out by deciding to eat less meat, but we gradually realized that what we didn't want to be a part of was the gas-driven, soul-sucking, industrial-military-agricultural complex that has robbed the earth of its fertility, animals of their bestial happiness, and human beings of their right to eat wholesome, healthy food. Gradually the trajectory of revolution began to emerge: eat more locally and organically, supporting diversity of foods and farmers in our region and encouraging ethical agriculture--->pay more money at farmer's markets and co-ops--->eat less meat to cut back on costs--->eat from other protein sources to substitute for meat--->live more simply, again to cut costs, but also to have the time to cook said foods and make eating a true feast, involving friends and family in this simple pleasure.

So we return again to simple pleasures. We want to revel in the parts of life we saw Wren and John enjoying that weekend: in nature, in hard work, in art, in relationships, and in good food. We know John and Wren would be embarrassed to be lauded so, and we know no one lives perfectly. But they were an encouragement to us, and a spark to ignite a conversion of lifestyle--a reminder of the power of friends to invigorate and support each other. And since we're always in need of a little more encouragement, a little more fuel for the fire, let us know what you think, and what you do, about all this. A little thing like food can be life-changing. It's important. Thanks for reading.

*Frost-wisps have been few and far between, lately--a rant about the state of the world's climate, better saved for another time. :)