Shannon and I signed up for the Eat Local Challenge, where we solemnly pledge to eat foods grown and produced within a hundred miles of where we live. No problem, I thought (a bit smugly I now realize). I mean- I work at a farmer's market. I do the minute amount which is the remainder of my shopping mostly at Ellwood Thompson's. Yet today, the first day of my declared locavore-ism, I ate exactly nothing that was grown and produced within a hundred miles of where I live. Not one thing.
I had prepared poorly, not to mention that fate was not really on this locavore's side today. The idea that I had not put the conscious thought that IS local eating into my pledge occured to me last night as I was looking at the spread of the cocktail party I was attending. Tomorrow, I thought, I won't be able to eat any of this. Tomorrow, I thought, I might become a pain in the butt. What about the leftovers that were hiding out in my fridge- milk and yoghurt, not to mention my curried cous- cous salad, the pizza I bought in a moment of weakness, the endless array of cheeses that always seduce their way into my cart, the bottle of Argentinian Malbec? What was gong to happen to them? Did I throw them out in solidarity and commitment?
I was discussing this with Massey, a fellow Pollan fan at the party, and today received this pep talk via email:
I was thinking about your transition to your 100 mile diet today. I think you HAVE to eat the left-overs and other perishables you already have that are from greater than 100 miles away. It would be really wasteful, inefficient, and unsustainable to not eat the perishables simply in the name of strictly adhering to the fuel and producer conscious 100 mile diet.
So, thanks for your grace. Oh, and while we are at it, one more thing. The fair is in town and that means at least one thing- Elephant Ears. Yep, I had one today- in celebration and, perhaps really as my last hurrah. I swear.
(BTW, fried dough goes really well with Malbec...)