- Chef and Owner of Higgins Restaurant, Greg Higgins,
- Alan Sprints of Hair of the Dog Brewery, and
- Laura Masterson, farmer and owner of 47th Ave. Farm.
- Joan Gussow, matriarch of the food movement
- Alice Waters, owner and founder of Chez Panisse
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Terroir, originally a French term, can be very loosely translated as "a sense of place" which is embodied in certain qualities, and the sum of the effects that the local environment has had on the manufacture of the product. --- This is about my exploration and awareness of my sense of connection and belonging with the people, places, and food in my community (this place I call home).
We hauled histories and guides and wildflower books and novels in and out of rented houses and hotels. Always we asked local people where they liked to eat and headed to restaurants our many guidebooks never mentioned. We both have an insatiable curiosity about each jagged castle ruin on the hillside. My idea of heaven still is to drive the gravel farm roads of Umbria and Tuscany, very pleasantly lost. (p. 8)
People travel for as many reasons as they don’t travel. ‘I’m so glad I went to London, a friend told me in college, ‘Now I don’t ever have to go again.’ At the opposite end of the spectrum is my friend Charlotte who crossed China in the back of a truck, an alternate route to Tibet...Once in a place, that journey to the far interior of the psyche begins or it doesn’t. Something must make it yours, that ineffable something no book can capture. It can be so simple, like the light I saw on the faces of the three women walking with their arms linked when the afternoon sun slanted into the Rugapiana. That light seemed to fall like a benison on everyone beneath it. I, too, wanted to soak my skin under such a sun. (p. 145)
When we consider “connecting with nature,” we are more inclined to imagine gazing at a spectacular waterfall than to consider rows of crops on a farm, let alone the frozen-foods aisle. In one of those great modern ironies, food is rarely regarded as “natural” unless it has been so labeled.Yet each time we eat a turkey sandwich or a bowl of cereal, we are dependent on land and water - we are fixed in food chains that link us to places that are surely embedded in ecological systems. Author Michael Pollan has recently described eating as “our most profound engagement with the natural world.” Indeed, through food, we are irrevocably attached to the natural environment. The odd thing is that, by habit, we rarely realize this, and collectively, our lack of awareness has given us a distorted view of our place as humans within the larger world. With the supermarket nearby, we live with a detached assurance that our stomachs will always be full, even as industrial farms severely degrade soils, consumer enormous amounts of fossil fuels, pollute waters with excess nitrogen and toxins, and inadvertently spur pests and microbes to alarming potencies.
Ostensibly, city shoppers never actually chose to know less about where foods came from and how they were raised, but the importance of knowing stories about food’s origins had been overshadowed by other, more pressing matters a American urbanized industrialized and grew. In the face of urban squalor and increased understanding of germs at the turn of the century, shoppers had chosen hygienic and prepackaged foods. As the supply of servants shrank, homemakers more openly considered laborsaving methods, products, and appliances that eliminated unseemly work. In the wake of World War I induced scarcity, city dwellers yearning for the security promises by a modern food system.
Cooks and eaters had long chosen foods based on sight, smell, taste, and tough – senses that could discern a full spectrum of qualities from ripeness to rot and all sorts of distinctions in between. Now a panoply of made-foods confounded those senses. What had always been a direct, natural, sensuous relationship between eaters and food seemed to be at stake.
This month’s issue of Orion magazine has an article called Environmental Amnesia, which talks about how people in the US know about chemicals and other dangers in their consumer products and foods but not about the chemicals and dangers in their own neighborhoods. Maybe I should be impressed that US consumers are aware of so many of the dangers in consumer products and foods, like Bisphenol-A, mercury in fish, and the great salmonella tomato scare. But I’m not.
Having just moved, within Portland but to another neighborhood, I am trying to get to know my new surroundings. I’m now in the Brentwood-Darlington neighborhood (see the map at the top of this page). But I’m having a little trouble figuring out how that helps me strengthen my sense of place. Thanks to a link in the Orion article, I know that in 2002, Multnomah Country (the one I’m in) ranked among the dirtist/worst 10% of all counties in the U.S. in terms of Toxic Chemicals released in the water water by industry. And I know that there are 5 superfund sites, “superfund” because of the large fund that was set up in the 1980s to deal with these toxic sites, that went bankrupt 5 years ago.
Not sure quite how I now feel more connected to the place I live, maybe I need to visit each superfund. Maybe I just need to notice my neighborhood more. So much changes in neighborhoods over time, strip malls are planned over playgrounds, your favorite field has cookie-cutter subdivisions built on it. Who wants to pay attention to those painful changes?