August Workcation

In an effort to beat the humidity and visit the family in one fell swoop, I escaped the stifling confines of August in NYC for the cooling summer effects of my native California.  Certain familial complications have resulted in my mom and me spending hours on end working my father's garden with almost total responsibility for the survival and upkeep of innumerable tomatoes, a virtual orchard of apples and a more-than-unruly potato patch.  7:30 am raspberry harvests, fruit fly infestations and backache aside, my august workcation has been surprisingly therapeutic.  It has made me look twice at my own presumed locavorism.

With food gleaning ever-more high profile recognition, from the great egg recall to the latest "it" foods to the great food truck race, it begs the question: the more we see/read/view our food, are we more or less connected to it?  Farmers markets are the latest locale for the visual comestible smorgasbord, where a little dirt creates an aura of authenticity and that "fresh off the vine" vibe.  Having spent the last three weeks living off the bounty of my own family's garden I've realized that maybe just eating locally isn't what locavorism should be about. (Garlic marinated roasted red and yellow peppers, delicious! Fresh-from-the-tree apple tarte tatin? Yes please.)   I'm all for reducing carbon footprints, supporting local farmers and eating less processed more healthful foods, don't get me wrong, but is it possible that focusing on farmers markets instead of superstores, organics instead of factory-produced has been reduced to a game of advertising semantics--are we missing the message?

Having given myself some distance from New York City (it seems I needed the physical for the sake of the mental), I realize how easy it is to get caught up in the faddishness of it all, to forget that eating local should be about more than paying for the label (and the peace of mind that comes with it).  After harvesting a bushel of tomatoes (alright, it was less than an actual bushel, allow me the term metaphorically), it was time to convert the harvest into a preservable food supply, also known as Aufmuth pasta sauce.  While slicing the freshly dug garlic cloves I realized that not only is eating local dirtier and more labor-intensive but it represents an incredibly satisfying engagement of the physical senses.  It is tactile and sticky, fragrant and decaying, it literally embodies our living cycle.  Maybe it's my California-hippie roots rearing their ugly heads, but it made me realize how much we miss when we focus merely on the labels and images and lose all of the work and the physical energy required for the "farm fresh"--we seem to have lost sight of how incredibly visceral the edible experience can be.

In short, just because we buy "organic" doesn't bring us any closer to the man (or woman) who grew it.  Perhaps engaging food should be more about entertaining trends or watching someone else do the cooking.  With food awareness poised in the forefront of the American conscience, we should remember that the hands on approach is generally the best learning experience...and the most satisfying.