Procurement to Plate: the Joy of Partaking (part I)

I’m inspired by several conversations I’ve had over the last few weeks.  The conversations haven’t been about one area of life or another.  The vibrating thread through all of them has been the attitude and the relatedness we are willing to bring to the journey, any journey.

The very fact we would look at anything (such as a medical/health treatment, our upcoming meal, a room’s renovation, a child’s education) as a journey is already an attitude adjustment.  A journey, an adventure, assumes a process, an interest in the aspects of the process, possibly an excitement and a curiosity.  Once we are aware of a process being present in our life, we begin to ask questions, identify the beginning, middle, end and inbetweens of the adventure.  Already, there is a palpable life around the process.  A sense of vitality around the questions of what do I/we value, what is a priority, how am I related to other, the process and myself.  Life!  Interest!  Attention!  The Chi/Prana is flowing; I feel more of my life inside and outside of myself.  I begin to recognize by this activation the life all around me.

When I consider the nourishment (and healing) of my body I think and consider the journey of procurement to plate; that is how and where I buy the raw ingredients for a meal, how I consider them (and myself) in their preparation, how I plate, how I serve, how I imbibe what has been prepared and even go as far as to think about how I store leftovers.  Each of these steps on the adventure of feeding myself and others (body and soul) can be layered and complex.  The adventure is solidly centered in:  how can I optimize my health, my received impressions, my well being and pleasure in the engagement with nature, other and myself.

Market Madness.

One of the things that has helped me at the beginning of any procurement journey is to make sure my curiosity is up and running.  There is no place for the automatic, knee-jerk self when I am trying to resonate and sensitize myself to the important job of opening (especially to food and people). 

Because of food sustainability, a reality in USA food sourcing, curiosity is almost required.  Health, sustainability and wellbeing are dependent on diversity; diversity of food sources and the willingness to engage with the unfamiliar.  Market shopping, in this light, becomes an adventure.  I try consistently to purchase one unfamiliar thing from each food group I am buying.  This could be a vegetable, fruit, protein source (ie: an up to now, unknown type of fish), or grain/complex carbohydrate (ie: amaranth, millet).  I try to buy local.  I try to buy seasonal, organic when possible.  I try to be present to what is available; to sense the vibration and aliveness of the food, to have the food come to me, for me to be attracted to its freshness/life (it’s so beautiful!  do not resist!).  I often opt to pick up “bugaboo” foods I hated as a child to see if I have a different experience of them now (ie: brussel sprouts, lima beans, peas). I notice what foods have not traveled well, or were not treated well farm to market.  I notice what was harvested too early and too late.  

Already the relationship has begun.  

If something jumps out at me, makes me smile and be excited, I pick it up, even if I don’t know what it is or what to do with it. To enjoy the curiosity more, I inquisit with the grocer, start a conversation with the other hovering shoppers about this curious food product.  In addition, via the internet, I can find out anything; what is it, nutrition content and what to do with it.  I’ve discovered very interesting, nutritious foods; foods that add color, texture and add an interesting variety to a meal (tomatillos, prickly pear, dragon fruit, unfamiliar melons or squash, several Asian greens I now recognize, but still don’t know their names—can’t read Chinese).  This is important:  Important for diversity of nutrition and source sustainability.  Important for keeping my culinary field open.  Boredom and repetition leads to disinteresting dining, ruts and a lack of diet diversity.  I am feeding my body, spirit and soul.  I want to care and be excited about my engagement with food.

photo credit:  Lalu Danzker

Switching up where you shop, trying new places encourages the curiosity factor.  Try not going to a supermarket for a month; shop only farmer’s markets, farm stands, food coops, non-industrialized food sources.  Yes, it is inconvenient sometimes.  Yes it is a different experience that sometimes is not easy (the selections may be limited, prices pricier).  But again, one’s culinary field is opened, more receptive.  Mindful eating is hardly ever about convenience or what is comfortable.  It’s about interest, joy and pleasure.

In this endeavor I have found relationship.  Relationship with farmers, small market purveyors, local artisan cheese makers and bakers. I ask questions, they ask me questions. They know me, I know them.  We have a mutual appreciation.  This is soul warming. It does my heart good (as it probably does them).  It is more fun, more interesting.  I feel more connected to my food, because I am.  I know the source.  I know where the fish came from.  I know how the fish was treated because I know the guy who trucked it.  This impacts my well being.  This infiltrates my preparation (I think of them as I chop and cook); their efforts are closer to me.  I feel a fuller connection, I feel a Oneness.  I have a sense of obligation to them, the food and myself to cook well what has been provided. 

photo credit: Lalu Danzker

I have only had remarkable outcomes and experiences doing this.  Buying a chicken from a small poultry farmer, getting to know her in the process, how she treats the chickens, what she thinks and feels about her chickens have given me a transformative culinary experience. I glean her excitement and love of her work, her relationship with her birds.  When I eat her chicken, it is like eating a miracle.  I taste its domestic wildness in the fiber of the flesh, the deep, earthy flavor. I feel its realness; I feel the farmer’s love and investment in the flesh.  The chicken’s good life is transmitted to me.  It is an experience.  This is a joy. It almost feels like receiving a sacrament, a total privilege to partake.  Also, a small portion goes a long way, leaving me fully satisfied and satiated.  Most ordinary chickens (even the organic ones) I am left with wanting more, because I am missing its essence, lost in its poor treatment in life and death.

In following posts, I will continue with the related processes of Partaking:

Preparation, Plating, Service, Leftovers; how does more engagement in these ordinary efforts feed more of me, enhance my wellbeing, and support joy in living.