The 100-Mile Diet

Yeah, I was skeptical too. I saw the book Plenty: Eating Locally On The 100 Mile Diet at Barnes & Noble, snapped a picture of it with my phone, and when I got home I looked it up on the Seattle library database. “Huh. It’s got a different name: Plenty: One Man, One Woman, and a Raucous Year of Eating Locally. Same authors, same book! This should be good! But what does “raucous” mean?” Either way, here it was: *click*. I put it on hold along with a few other books I found and went on my way. A week later, at the most, I stopped by the Ballard library and picked it up along with another book and a couple of DVDs. I still had some time left on my parking meter sticker, so with nowhere to go anytime soon I sat in my car with the February sun warming my face and cracked open the book.

March

The year of eating locally began with one beautiful meal and one ugly statistic.

First, the meal. What we had on hand, really, was a head of cabbage. Deep inside its brainwork of folds it was probably nourishing enough, but the outer layers were greasy with rot, as though the vegetable were trying to be a metaphor for something. We had company to feed, and a three-week-old cabbage to offer them.

As I’m reading this first chapter, all I can think is that they’re not going to be able to do it. Put me down for ten on Epic 100-Mile Fail! As much as I’d have loved to know then that they succeeded (notice I didn’t say “survived”) and lived happily-ever-after, I just couldn’t believe that it was possible for just anyone. She was a hunter-gatherer who was forced to dig for roots if she was going to survive toddlerhood, right? He could catch a fish with his bare hands in a raging river…am I close? Nope. They were a couple of journalists, boyfriend-girlfriend, and he was just that much more adventurous than she was. That’s why he came up with the idea: “I think we should try eating local food for a year.”

That’s what started it all. I don’t want to ruin the book for you, because as informational as it is, it’s really a story. A true story, yes, but we never want to ruin the ending or the surprises of a true story either. Their experience of eating locally from March to February developed a wave of interest that splashed all across America. Many people are trying to do it now — and succeeding. 

Okay, okay. So I’ve probably given away the ending: They succeeded and liked it. They haven’t really gone back to their way of eating before they started the experiment either. So it’s possible. I’d like to try it. However, it isn’t easy. Most grocery stores don’t carry too many whole foods that are as local as 100 miles. Most Seattle grocery stores consider local as being from Oregon, Washington, or Idaho. It’s pretty good, but that’s still quite the traveling distance! I’d have to go to the farmer, to the fisherman, almost every time, if I was going to find a local product and really know that it was local. I can only imagine how difficult something like that could be, especially here in Seattle.

But maybe someday I’ll be able to talk Amanda into doing a 100-day, 100-mile diet. I’ll make sure we plan a good chunk of it out since she’s the planner, but I refuse to plan it all out, since I’m the adventurer. I think we could do it. Maybe not for a while, but we could do it. We would sure learn a lot about the people around us! I already plan on frequenting Ballard’s Farmer’s Market come spring, so that can be our way of getting our feelers out. I want to be able to think of the people I buy my produce from as I’m preparing it back at home, knowing it was from their farm, sown by their hand, plucked by their hand, reaped by our content bellies. 

I like food and I like this planet we’ve been given to use. For so long I’ve been disconnected with it. I’ve never known where my food comes from. Like, really known. Sure, these organic bananas were grown in Mexico. Never been there. Never seen the person who harvests them. Never really known. Think of how the word “know” was often used in the Hebrew Scriptures: “Abraham knew his wife.” Translation: Abraham had sex with his wife. Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to make any trades with any farmers for corn this summer, but I do want there to be some intimacy when it comes to paying for food that is going to nourish my and Amanda’s bodies. I want to shake the hand that feeds me. Get it?

I’m also really excited to try and garden on the apartment balcony. It faces West. You think I could grow a tomato plant and enjoy some flavorful tomatoes on a West balcony? I don’t know either. I remember when I was in my pre-teen years and we had some raised beds in the backyard where we’d grow tomatoes and cucumbers. We would be giving them away we’d have so many! I want to get back to that. I want to sink my hands in the soil and not complain this time. I want to weed and till the soil and create a place where new life is ready to grow. Amanda and I can only do so much with pots on a balcony, but we’ll work our way up. I’m excited to create life with her……but for now, we’re just going to start with flowers and tomatoes. Nothing, yet, that poops.

{Check out the 100-Mile Diet on my Blogroll. It’s a neat website!}