Food Stress

The first I heard the term "food stress" was leading backpacking trips with teenagers. I was one of four guides who would take students of the Ashland High Wilderness Charter School out into the backcountry of southern Oregon and northern California on 14-day trips that included a 1-3 day solo experience for kids. The most remarkable adjustments that students had to face were not the discomforts of blisters, 45 pound backpacks, or voracious mosquitoes. The real adjustments came from technological withdrawl (tvs, ipods, movies, etc.), and, fear of being alone, and, the sense of food deprivation.
No matter how much food we packed, there were always circumstances in which the notion of food limitation combined with the exertion of hiking unraveled students into a tizzy of starvation accusations. They were sure we hadn't packed enough food, certain that we were unjust and malicious in forcing them to abstain from bringing their own food supplies, and positive that other students were taking more than their fair share from the food pot. Food-stress was akin to a fever that swept through camp. It spoke of the sense of deprivation the students were feeling from the familiar foods they knew in their home lives, I mean, let's face it, backpacking food doesn't delight everybody. For example: they didn't like lentil soup, they were"sick of trail mix" or they felt like they needed more meat. We would sit down with them and provide examples of abundance, show proof of our planning and make a list of steps students could take to fulfill their dietary needs. As we became more savvy guides we were able to address this problem early on and head it off, ultimately learning how to avoid the conflict altogether.
The ramshackle experienced something akin to this. We were a bit more subtle in expressing the stress, but it arose in comments about "rules" (none of which had been thoroughly outlined), and it arose in our apathy towards our food choices. Food stress led to "cheatings" and later to confessions to one or another housemate. There were instances of takeout food showing up mysteriously in the refrigerator, speculations about who was on board and who wasn't, followed by renewed efforts to provide delicious snacks and dinners. All of this came to a head and resulted in the acceptance of salt as a part of our diet again. And olive oil. Neruda says: essential child of the olive... I have to agree with the essential part. So much butter for a 7-year vegan was a radical adjustment.
These small compromises and the tension that led up to them provided me with the best learning of this project so far. It created fabulous dialogue about what exactly we are doing, why and for whom, the questions and sometimes criticism we have faced from friends as well as the support. We came around to focusing on the abundance of our food choices and laughed at ourselves for lamenting our limitations. We have become so accustomed to the choices provided us by the global food market that it was surprisingly hard to see how many options we have, even at this time of year.
As a result of the local diet, we are eating less processed food. There are simply too many ingredients--Tofurky produced by Turtle Island foods, for example, relies on wheat gluten from New Zealand so it's definitely not an option. This means that for protein we have been reliant on the one bean we can buy--black beans, and the one grain--barley. With these options, and, for a few of us, meat and eggs, we are able to build a simple, and now salted, diet high in fiber, minerals and protein sources.
We, like the teens, needed to be reminded by each other through our ongoing discourses, of the abundance of August foods in the Pacific Northwest. As we crunch away on hazelnuts, or Kari reminds us that she has cracked one too many walnuts, and Shizuko forms perfect wheat tortillas ready for the hot,cast iron skillet, we come into a deeper knowledge of the richness of our home foods. Certainly, I lament any amount of time away from Avocados, limes, and the sticky mess of mangos, and yet, this month is teaching us not just to ride our bikes under plum trees while the fruit gives over its dark sugar to the sidewalk. Instead, we stop, gather several, bring them home and remember where the tree is to add to our list of food sources. We experiment with our strangely cross-pollinated squash; we soak and praise barley. I barely miss tofu. I only sort of miss bread. I miss my vegan identity, but I like looking at what is here, is regional, is not soy-based.
It has been a lovely experiment and a good test of our relationships to food, our homeplace, and each other.
Kate