Solving the world's problems, one tomato at a time!

A few years ago, the university sent me and a couple of others to a conference in Kansas City.  The team leader suggested that we have dinner at a highly recommended restaurant that was a few blocks away.

When we reached the restaurant, I understood why it had those high ratings from a certain group of consumers.  It was one of those "farm to table" places.

"Farm to table" is one of those phrases that I have made fun of, like how I mock the slogan "eat local."  With the latter, I have some serious grammar problems too--they should at least phrase it as "eat locally."

With the "eat local" folks, who buy their meats and veggies and fruits from their locale, whatever the distance radius might be, how local is the eating when even the utensils that they use to cook are not made locally? The recipe is displayed on the iPad, which is not made locally.  You can see where I go with this ...

"Farm to table" is one of those.  Even the food I cook at home is "farm to table"--even though the farm might be far away in Mexico or New Zealand or in California.

A geographer at my old university writes about all these in an essay in which she brings her own life as an environmentalist.  She writes:

The late Anthony Bourdain made the point that “farm-to-table” is a cultural misnomer — all food comes from a farm, and most is served on a table.¹³ This trend has resulted in the tokenization of the local, environmentally friendly, sustainable meal and put many environmentally minded consumers in a place where their values make them vulnerable to manipulation by corporations that know how to capitalize on said values, but without accountability.
The concept of “local food” has been commodified to the point that it has become meaningless. Restaurants advertise themselves as “farm-to-table” and feature menus highlighting the names of the farms and places where headline ingredients are grown. But the Sysco truck still pulls up to the backdoor, unloading flours, oils, spices, and other ingredients sourced from across the globe.

I have found that if I point out such things that alert one to troubling contradictions, well, it is the quickest way to lose friends ;)

The author refers to a number of such "environmental micro-behaviors."

By fixating on micro-scale actions and lifestyle behaviors, environmentalists have made themselves vulnerable to attacks that characterize environmentalism as both out of touch with society and fixated on concerns that are dwarfed within the broader framework of environmental change.
What, then, should environmentalists do?

Keep in mind that the author is a self-described lifelong environmentalist and runs her daughter's school garden.

So, again, what should environmentalists do?

For many of us who think about the world and its problems, and who try to make meaning of it all in our pursuit of creating a better tomorrow, everything gets more complicated by the day.  And the moment we voice our thoughts on these, the naysayers--almost always from the Republican side of politics--immediately pounce on the contradictions we display in our lives.  Like with Al Gore and his jetting around.

I agree with her point that "micro-behaviors serve as anchors grounding us in a complicated world."

But we need to be careful about representing environmental micro-behaviors as larger and more impactful than they are, or attaching them to larger narratives that obscure the privilege of which they are a by-product. Are we capable of embracing this paradox? Can we contextualize our lifestyles within their broader environmental significance? Can we derive meaning and pleasure from activities that deepen our connectedness with the natural world while recognizing that we environmental moderns are among the most resource-intensive humans who have ever lived? Can we embrace hybridity and complexity without feeling compelled to quantify the carbon footprint of every micro-scale behavior?
In a world that is increasingly individualized, commercialized, and secular, environmentalism and the practices we enact in its name often serve as proxies for religious practices. Perhaps by allowing ourselves these pleasures without demanding that they solve the world’s ills, we can see them for what they are — opportunities for meaning and connection.

Indeed!

Marinara: From the backyard to the table!