Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

Over the summer I read a book called Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver.  In this book Kingsolver chronicles the year her family of four undertook the monumental task of eating only what they could raise or buy locally, in their county in rural Virginia.  This book has had a direct effect on me since I’ve been home from Canada.  I have been to the local stand across from Walmart on many occasions (which I never did before) and brought home some fresh produce, including some really outstanding peaches.  I even put several bags of these peaches in the freezer for making some pies later on. (One may show up at the next Poetry, Prose and Pie.)  I know these seem like small steps, but they represent a real shift in my thinking and desire to change.  For all you out there who have been doing this for years, Bravo!

So let me tell you a little more about this book.

Ms. Kingsolver and her family began the agricultural and gastronomical journey in late March, just as the first fruits of spring began to appear at the farmer’s markets in her area. She vividly describes the work they all put into selecting the seed varieties they will plant in their garden and the breeds of chickens and turkeys they will raise. 

The rest of the book tells the stories of the food they grow on their small farm, and the connections they make with those who raise the food they eat and grow the staple crops they will depend upon.  They even learn to make their own cheeses.  Kingsolver is an excellent storyteller, and her writing is witty and entertaining, even for someone like me, who has never been a foodie, or remotely interested in gardening of any type.

One of my favorite incidents from the book is Kingsolver’s description of their Thanksgiving dinner. They had a true cornucopia of their own foods; everything needed for the feast except one thing they couldn’t do without—cranberries.  The family decides that they are not going to be a slave to their ideals and go to grocery store to buy a bag of organic cranberries. She describes this bag as some alien that has landed in their kitchen, lying there seductively in its cellophane wrapper.  She thought all the members of the family went by and fondled it at some point.

There’s also a chapter on turkey sex which is very amusing and entertaining.  Since most turkeys grown on industrial farms are artificially inseminated, very few people ever get to see this event happen. She said, “Of course I watched.”

All of this is connected to a growing movement called the Slow Food Movement.  This movement is a reaction against the fast food culture in which we live.  The fast food culture is characterized by its values, which are efficiency, predictability, measurable results and control.  In contrast, the Slow Food Movement values relationships, relationships with others but also with the earth itself.  Slow Food enthusiasts want to know who is growing their food, want to know who is preparing their food, and want to spend leisurely times enjoying their food.

All this seems very idyllic, and for sure, it’s beyond my capabilities on a regular basis, but I want to try to add more of these ideas to my life.  I think it’s a journey worth going on, even if it’s only once in a while.

My friend Jane just told me that she got to have dinner with
Barbara Kingsolver once.  I am very jealous.