Feasting

By Stephanie Mancini

The sunlight sparkles through the tree behind the house, birds flitter about and fill the air with their song. The sky is clear as far as you can see.

I like to think of the sun as nourishing, warming and ripening the fruits and vegetables. This is quite contrary to the current mode of ozone depletion and of arming ourselves against the harmful rays of the sun. How easy it is to demonize the very sun that keeps us alive rather than to change our driving/air conditioning/excess manufacturing which destroy the ozone - nature's way of looking after our very thin skin.

But this is meant to be a celebration – a celebration of food, of abundance, of the gifts of the garden. It's mid-July, and our breakfast was brimming full of raspberries and red currants picked fresh from the garden, cherries picked from Margaret's tree behind us, and blueberries from an Italian man at the market. So far I have three big bags of raspberries frozen and ready to make into ice cream all winter long. My fingernails were stained for a week after pitting and chopping cherries now also in the freezer. There is a delightful aroma to the basil and cilantro picked fresh from the garden, whirred in the food processor and frozen for winter pestos and for fresh herb sauces.

Joe's delightful culinary abilities turn all this freshness into a feast at each meal. Last night's supper started with tiny garlic chives we uprooted from a pathway in the garden, joined by one of our new onions that was popping out of the soil where it grew, and big leafy greens (swiss chard, dandelion) were chopped and added in. Snap peas, mushrooms, and squash from Charlie (he is a local grower, has a stall at the Kitchener market, and is a member of BarterWorks) were stir-fried quickly in the wok while the pasta cooked. Steaming pasta was poured into the dish, over some fresh sheep’s feta (bought from the Greek couple who have a store on Ontario Street downtown). The vegetables were gently stirred in along with some freshly chopped basil, cilantro, parsley and chives.

Eating such a dish is a celebration, made even more special by the act of preparing the meal. Our conversation touches on where the food came from - "Are these Charlie's onions?" "Who did you get the peas from?" "Where does the Italian market vendor grow his food?" or on how to prepare the food - "How finely should these be chopped?" "Can you run outside and pick 5 or 6 leaves of basil?" We pass an evening preparing and enjoying such a meal, topped off with a dish of home-made ice cream (last night's treat was espresso-chocolate chip - mm!)

Now, making a meal in our household is not a simple task. Supper takes at least an hour to prepare and many hands are needed to pick, wash, fetch and clean up. Meals are a family pastime. Our teenage daughters apprentice under their father's watchful eye. Our five year old son regularly makes chocolate-chocolate chip biscotti and scones, and has now become the official "shaper" of the cookies as they go on the cookie sheet.

These habits and patterns have been built over years of learning. For example, this year we met Charlie the organic gardener. He visited our garden and we shared some herbs and produce from our garden which he in turn sold at the market and he has shared some of his produce with us. Last year we canned organic plum tomatoes which were grown specifically for us by a woman in Wellesley who makes an income from her farm land while she home schools her children. Finding local sources, learning to use food in season, preserving food for winter is part of the cycle of the seasons. Every year we learn something new. To some this way seems complicated or difficult. As someone who despises shopping I would gladly labour in my garden or wander the market than stand in line in a grocery store.

What can be more complicated than buying blueberries in July from a large store, that were picked in B.C., loaded into plastic trays, and shipped across Canada to be sold "fresh" in Ontario stores while local growers search for ways to sell their blueberries? What of the fumes created by the trucks that carried the berries, and the plastic that lies intact in area landfills? As a society we have lost the ability to eat without using over-packaged, highly processed foods, we’ve turned good growing land into suburbs which are regularly treated with pesticides, and we’ve institutionalized hunger where it is seen as charitable to share the excesses of our food system with the poor. Understanding the immensity of these problems is far more complicated for me.

Perhaps the greater price we pay is losing the symphony of tastes, smells and textures as we harvest, clean, and prepare our food. In this context, using the backyard to grow food, participating in a community garden, eating well, buying locally, and sharing with others become acts of resistance.