The Conclusion of Food Roots: It's About More Than Just The Food

As I sliced pear after pear this morning I couldn’t help but think that this may be the last food preservation act I do this year. With a sniffly 3 year old helper and a sniffly 1 year old eater at my side we carved out just 15 minutes of our morning to wash and slice pears for our 6 quart slow cooker. Just fifteen minutes with little helpers and we will be able to enjoy this sauce in January knowing where it came from, that it doesn’t belong on the dirty dozen list, and that these three sets of hands lovingly worked together to not only preserve this food, but to preserve these memories.

And yet so many times I hear the question "What is the point? Wouldn’t it be easier to just work a few more hours to pay for these things?"

In the spring when we were just starting to forage for dandelion greens and pick up the first greens of the season I was completely thrilled with every meal. So thrilled, in fact, that I would gleefully tell my husband where every thing on our dinner plates came from. "The eggs are from the farmer down the road… the greens are from the farmer’s market, the thyme is from our herb garden…" and on and on.

Now at the end of October my enthusiasm has dwindled, but those evening lectures on the origins of our food have rubbed off on our three year old. It seems that without fail, every evening, he now tells us where the food comes from. "That’s grass-fed beef from the farmer… those are potatoes from Deb (our CSA farmer)… these tomatoes are from the garden!"

As he tore stems off of those pears this morning I wondered if he would remember that very moment as I would. His little hands intertwined with mine, our discussion of where those pears came from, looking over at his little brother happily chewing away with pear juice dripping down his chin.

These weeks, days and minutes seem to go by so fast without so much as a pause. I can’t even see baby photos of this little boy without tears streaming down my cheeks at the realization of time gone by. It never stops, we can’t slow it down, and when I think about that it hurts.

If we don’t have these every day moments of growing and preparing food with our children, then not only will time continue to slip away, but we won’t even have those memories… those treasures of digging in the garden with a little 2-year old voice crying "oh mama, oh mama… a ‘cumber’ from ‘da gawden!"

These are the moments I want to remember. These are the things I want my children to learn and hold on to. I want them to know where their food comes from, but more importantly Who their food comes from. That every bite we take, every herb we pick from the ground, and every seemingly mundane moment spent slicing pears is a gift.

And when it’s the end of the season and we grow weary at the sight of another bushel of food, I want them to know that even if there’s still more work to be done, we will make food and memories together. Memories of the daily time at the cutting board with mama. Memories of creating a blueberry "clobber" from hand-picked berries and hand-ground grain with papa. Because, as my 3 year old now says when we’re all gathered together, "we’re a family!"

So "what’s the point?" We are creating more than just pretty jars of food, we are creating memories. We are trying to teach our children more than just how to make a stew, we are trying to teach them to be thankful, that it takes hands on work to produce food, and that everything we have is a blessing.

I really should tell them that it’s more about character training, appreciation, and love than it is about food.

So, for the last time in 2009, tell me what is the point? Where does your food come from?