Sticking a Toe In

I decided immediately that I was not going to dive into the locavore movement head first. Instead, I would dip a toe in, and if it felt comfortable maybe I would move on to a shallow wade. No need to rush things.

My toe-dipping was a week or two of reflection about where I was starting. This was a sobering process.

First, my eating habits. I think it's safe to say that I love junk food more than the average woman of my age. I am a huge fan of chips, and if they are covered with a generous dusting of some flavorful food-like substance, even better. I don't typically subject my family to fast food, but I'm kind of happy if a hectic schedule requires me to go to a drive thru to pick up a McAnything. When the parents in my town fought to get a big, preservative-rich, calorie laden, cookie removed from its once a week appearance in school cafeterias, I secretly rooted for the cookie.

So there's that.

Then there's my meal planning and shopping, which should go hand in hand, but don't in my case. I remember my mother's incredible organization skills in this area. She would map out the meals for the coming week, carefully construct her grocery list based on the meal plans, and then methodically check off each item as she placed it in her cart. She kept an extra supply of everything she used frequently in her pantry and, as a result, was never caught mid-week without a crucial ingredient for the week's meals.

I'm a little more, shall we say, creative, in my approach to shopping. I try to take stock of things we need before I leave for the store, but I rarely bother to write these items down anywhere. I don't like to plan menus ahead. Rather, I prefer to gaze at the products in the produce, meat, and fish departments and see what inspires me. I don't pay attention to prices, which might help alert me to the fact that the blueberries and strawberries I'm buying in the dead of winter are only in season in South America. I occasionally read the nutrition facts on a box of some new snack I want to try, but that is almost always depressing. If it's low in fat, it's high in sodium. If it's high in fiber, it's high in calories, too. The overriding message is, "Stay out the snack aisle, fool!" 

Lately, I've been making a few positive choices. For several months I've been buying the organic, free-range chicken that my chain supermarket carries. To be perfectly honest, I made this change because the six foot long case of organic and specialty meats was a lot less overwhelming to me than the 30 foot case that hosted their more complete and ordinary selection. "I'm probably paying more," I reasoned, "but I don't look at the price, anyway. Oh yeah, and it's better for us and the planet."

I also buy Farmer's Cow milk which is distributed by a CT dairy cooperative. I started buying Farmer's Cow milk when I was discussing food shopping habits with a friend and she said, "Well, I'm sure you at least buy Farmer's Cow milk!" I do now! You're never too old for peer pressure.

So, I love junk food and I'm a careless food shopper, but I do have one thing going for me. I like to cook. I take the same creative approach to my cooking that I apply to my food shopping, but with somewhat better results. For my day-to-day cooking, I don't like to be hemmed in by recipes. The reasons are two-fold. First, recipes call for a well-planned shopping trip for ingredients. We've already established that I can't do that. I once followed a recipe for lasagna and made separate grocery trips for every - single - ingredient. Mind-boggling, I know. And, I actually graduated from college and hold down a job!

The second reason is not my fault. My family carries a rare gene that prevents all of us, without exception, from following directions. I watched an awesome display of this genetic anomaly this past Christmas Eve. My daughter and her cousins cracked open a new board game that one of them had received as a gift. None of them had ever played the game before, but they took out the board and pieces and tossed aside the box with the directions untouched inside. For the next hour they vigorously debated the rules, changing them completely at least three times during the course of a single game. When the debate over the rules got a tad heated, I suggested that they could, perhaps, consult the directions that came with the game. They erupted in laughter and then went back to a more jovial debate of whose rule twist had more merit. I had done my job.

So, it is clear that I have some obstacles to this whole thoughtful eating thing. I'll be wading ankle deep for a long time before I'm really ready to swim. But, I'm still game. The good news is, if you're coming along for the ride, I'll probably make you feel really good about yourself!