the girls all dance with the boys from the cityPosted: July 6, 2008
There was an article in today’s Kids’ Post about local food. Now, I’m sure to some, The Washington Post is a crazy radically liberal paper but, really, y’all – though I do love it – it’s pretty damn far from the fringe. And the Kids’ Post is about as mainstream as it gets. And there was an article about local food in it today. Woo and Hoo, as we like to say in these parts. Sometimes cultural change comes quicker than I’d expect. Used to be, if you went down to the farmers’ market here before 9 or 9:30 it was empty and you had your pick of good stuff, but now it’s a sea of over-priced strollers and upper-middle class Central Virginians by 8 am. You’ve got to get your ass over there buy 7:15 if you want your local eggs and goat’s cheese. And there’s an article about local food in the paper. Who knew?
Now, you’ll remember* I love some local food. Hell, I love food in general. That shit’s good. (Can you tell I spent the day with LB?). And I’m pretty sold on local food – for all the reasons people are and also because of my general desire to never, ever leave the house/neighborhood. And because local food is just good. The quality of food – the plain out good taste of it – is pretty important to me. In the same way having good art around me is important, or noticing the texture of the sky over Starrhill is important. There’s some inherent value in beauty, I think.
It’s this desire for, and appreciation of, the beauty of food that keeps me from calling myself a real localvore. For all I do tend to eat predominantly local food (in large part for its aesthetic merits – it just tastes better), it will never be all I eat. I’m not so much a 100% girl with anything. And I *like* food that’s not local. The sliver lining of globalization is coffee and chocolate and the Irish Whiskey one of my former roommates brought when he moved in. And lemons and kiwi and pineapple. I won’t ever be a real localvore because of these delicious and coyly smiling antipodes of the McDonald’s and Starbucks** on every corner – fancy cheeses and Prosciutto di Parma from the store across Main street call me. Mango pickles and saffron and the avocados my uncle used to ship us are good like water is good – plain and pretty all at once. Broadened food tastes do the same thing any broadened perspective does – makes you look outside yourself. And I’m drawn to them for that, but also just because they are damn good. Aesthetics is the trump card. This might make me a hedonist, but it will also make me buy a pineapple to eat with my homemade from local milk cottage cheese.
But yeah, it will be a Fair Trade pineapple if I can swing it – there’s nothing pretty about shitty working conditions. But that’s a post for another time. I have to go check on my sauerkraut.