Glorious Inefficiency of Growing Our Own Food
When I was a kid my parents did this gardening thing. Frankly, I found it kind of annoying — it always seemed to take up a lot of their time and effort, and the benefits were unclear to me. Yes, a portion of our food came from our garden, but we could get it all at the supermarket. So, I didn’t really get why we had to put all this effort into growing it ourselves.
This wasn’t an amateur operation. We are talking about 20 rows of 30+ types of vegetables and some herbs, plus an orchard with about 20 trees. What we couldn’t consume we would preserve in various ways — jams, pesto, bags of frozen berries, pickled cucumbers. Work was relentless. From April until October rarely a day would go by that wouldn’t require some work in the garden: sowing, reaping, weeding, cutting — there was always something that needed to be done, and couldn’t wait until tomorrow.
My participation was usually limited to plucking weeds. I don’t think I ever applied myself enough to gain any actual skills, and as a result, I wasn’t trusted with any more important jobs. I would, however, argue that telling weeds apart from actual veggies is a vastly unappreciated skill.
As a result I spent my childhood and teen years with zero appreciation of the whole operation.
Becoming an adult and moving far away showed me just how clueless I was. Oh, the heartbreak of buying those perfectly red tomatoes only to discover they taste like cardboard. Or waiting for cherries to finally be in season, only to discover that a small bag is as expensive as three full dinners for a small family.
So, I came to my senses.
Now one of the things I look forward to most when visiting my family is produce from their garden. As soon as my trip is booked I start making mental notes of the produce that will be in season.
If I am visiting in May, I am thinking of all the asparagus and strawberry dishes we will savour. In August I am hoping to catch the tail end of the berry season and eat my weight in blueberries. Sometimes, just for fun, I would keep track of the supermarket value of what I ate. I reckon a 3-week visit would equal more than $1000 worth of berries.
This year I am visiting for a bit longer (asparagus and berry season both included) and my baby is lucky enough to eat produce from my parents' garden as her first solids. Beyond just enjoying the fruits, I have the opportunity to help with and observe all that goes into growing your food. Also, given I help make businesses more effective and efficient for work, I cannot help but to apply an analytical lens to my observations.
And what I see is so much inefficiency. So much waste. And so much magic.
I see how growing food is relentless, and how a 3-day trip means a 3-day break in raspberry picking, and in that time many will go past their prime and start rotting.
I see how a decision not to treat plants with any pesticides creates a lot of waste and heartbreak when beautiful, ready-to-pick produce becomes prey to bugs and snails.
I see how there is a terribly small window of time when each produce can be enjoyed fresh, and no year-round convenience of buying everything needed for a particular recipe. So if you miss out on that rocket salad recipe, you have to wait a whole another year until it is in season again.
So much inefficiency. So much waste. But where is the magic?
Let’s take an example of one red, ripe, flavourful tomato finding its way into my pasta bowl.
There is inefficiency in tying and cutting tomato plants as they grow so they would be able to sustain tomatoes already on the vine, rather than growing new fruit. There is a mess that goes into fighting off bugs (and children) wanting to get to it before it is ripe. There is the inconvenience of waiting for that tomato to become just the right shade of red.
But after all that, I get to pick the tomato, carry it inside still wet from the morning dew, slice its juicy flesh, and deliver it straight into my pasta bowl.
And that bowl is where the magic happens.
Everything that went into growing the tomato, all the inefficiency, mess, and waste are now redeemed. Together, they enhance the humble tomato flavour by adding notes of patience, commitment, and love.
And for me, those flavour enhancers really are the ones that can turn any simple meal into pure magic.
Bon appetite!
