A remarkable thing happened this morning. I received an email from the farmer who raised the hog that has become my Christmas ham which I will pick up tomorrow. Farmer Wendy lives about 20 minutes from here, and she emailed me to clarify what I had meant when I specified (on my buyer’s club order) that I wanted a ham with a small bone.
(Grocery store half hams seem to come in two types – those with a large bone which are cheaper – and those with a small one. Having never bought a locally raised pastured pork ham before, I felt the need to specify.)
What’s so completely amazing about this simple email is that it crystalized – for me anyway – the whole point of eating local. Think about it: when we walk into a grocery store the food is just there. It’s ever present and until recent food contamination events hit the news, most of us never really thought about where it came from or how it landed in the case, cooler or on the shelf. It just seemed to spontaneously generate – perfectly packaged in cans, bottles, boxes or styrofoam trays – and we mindlessly accepted that.
Until now. I’ve been buying locally raised meats, poultry and eggs for a little over a year at this point and I can say that it’s a completely different experience. And, as this morning’s email shows, it’s one that puts me in contact with the person who actually grew some of my food. “My” little piggy went to market, not by way of inhumane treatment, corporate malfeasance, various and sundry middlemen, and diesel fueled tractor trailers, but directly from the farmer to the consumer.
Think about it. Farmer —>Me. Talk about simple living! You can’t get much simpler than that.
The fact that I find this – a simple email from a farmer about my Christmas ham – to be so delightful indicates just how far off track our industrial food system has become. Only a few generations ago, eating locally was pretty much the norm. My Mom grew up during the Great Depression on her grandparent’s small farm in northern NY; they were largely self-sufficient, and sold the excess regionally through a co-op. My Dad’s large family (9 kids!) kept chickens and a large garden. My Dad remembers riding the train north with a case of their freshly slaughtered chickens for delivery to the big tourist hotels in the Adirondacks. Back then, nearly all food (except, perhaps, for the orange in your Christmas stocking) was local. It needs to be that way again.
Here’s something to think about. When contaminated peanut products hit the shelves in 2009, were you contacted by anyone from Westco Fruit & Nut Co. to see if you had any concerns? Did you receive any communication at all last spring from Wright County Egg when they realized there might be a salmonella problem with their product?
If not, maybe it’s time to seriously investigate your local food sources.
Have a great weekend!
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