I Ask Myself
Angesichts der Corona-pandemie macht sich unsere Kolumnistin ernsthafte Gedanken über ihre Ernährungs- und Einkaufsgewohnheiten.
Amy Argetsinger on eating and shopping differently during the coronavirus crisis
ADVANCED US
recently bought a gallon of maple syrup because I felt bad for the farmers who had harvested it — but also because I love maple syrup. We used a lot of it this spring, when my husband’s homemade waffles became a weekly treat for us, stuck at home during the coronavirus crisis. So, when I saw the option to buy it from a farm collective where I had started buying vegetables, I happily chose to do so.
Then it arrived, and I realized just how big a gallon of maple syrup is — far too unwieldy to pour directly onto a breakfast plate. I had to divide it among smaller bottles and find places to cold-store them so that the syrup doesn’t go bad. Meanwhile, my husband has given up sugar. It will take us a long time to get through this syrup.
As the coronavirus crisis rippled through so many sectors of our economy, many of us who remained employed tried to support workers who were struggling. We ordered takeout from our favorite sit-down restaurants, bought gift cards we couldn’t yet redeem at hair salons and gyms, asked the bookstores we used to browse through in person to ship us the newest novels, and we kept paying the cleaning crews who could no longer come to our homes.
It also became clear that many of these businesses were just the end link in a chain of beleaguered industries we had never connected with directly — until now, that is. So, when a shuttered city restaurant started selling boxes of vegetables, fresh eggs, and milk from the country farms that had supplied its kitchen, I immediately signed up. It proved to be quite a learning experience.
I was overwhelmed by the leafy greens — more than we could get through in a week. Or should we be eating more salad? It made me aware that these vegetables were actually in season now in this part of the country, and that they would surely be gone in a few months. And yet, I had always bought lettuce yearround at my grocery store, never stopping to think how many planes it had traveled on to get there.
I was humbled to learn that I had never known the difference between a turnip and a parsnip. (Roast those parsnips — they’re delicious!) That I didn’t know how long beets would last or the right way to store potatoes — let alone the amazing things you can do with the radish.
I was also struck by the extent to which these rural farms had adapted to the precious tastes of high-end urban restaurants — and it wasn’t just the syrup! Farms were desperate to unload their exotic cheeses, chunks of honeycomb, huge bags of edible flowers — things that make for a beautiful plate but which, try as I might, I would never find a way to use at home. “Maybe your little girl would like the edible flowers?” a friend suggested. But I’m pretty sure she would just see them as salad.