Celebrating a trip in the slow lane
Heading to San Francisco last Saturday morning, it was important
that we packed three things: hats or sunscreen for a perfect late
summer day, patience and pocketfuls of cash.
We were headed to Slow Food Nation, the first global exposition
celebrating good food and its connection to communities like ours
ever to come to North America.
Celebrating a trip in the slow lane
Heading to San Francisco last Saturday morning, it was important that we packed three things: hats or sunscreen for a perfect late summer day, patience and pocketfuls of cash.
We were headed to Slow Food Nation, the first global exposition celebrating good food and its connection to communities like ours ever to come to North America.
The slow food movement is young. The first gathering was just two years ago in Turin, Italy. It’s only logical that the second gathering would be in San Francisco, at the heart of the food-obsessed Bay Area.
We strolled toward the Civic Center Plaza, following the crowds. Upon arriving, we wandered through a lush garden overflowing with vegetables, herbs and flowers. We were more accustomed to seeing people sleeping on the plaza’s benches, overflowing shopping carts close at hand. This transformation put our own gardening efforts to shame. Scarlet runner beans embraced trellises, covered with brilliant flowers. Squash shaded stands of corn. Herbs and flowers nodded under the weight of bees.
Minutes after arriving, we brushed up against Alice Waters, the definition of a celebrity chef and one of the event’s organizers. Soon, she was joined by Eric Schlosser, the best-selling author of “Fast Food Nation,” and the television cameras zoomed in.
We had certainly arrived at food’s Main Event.
The slow food movement is easier to understand when your own hands are buried in the earth. To try to sum it up, it’s a philosophy that embodies much of what San Benito County’s agriculture offers. Adherents seek fresh food, produced by growers with links to their communities. They understand that meals should be eaten with friends and family – a gustatory communion. They shun cheap, factory-based fast food.
And all of that makes the movement vulnerable to charges of elitism, because much of what was available from exhibitors last weekend was a little pricey.
But when we look at our expanding grocery bills, too few of us consider the real costs of our food.
Did our grocery basket support American jobs? Were the people who produced, picked and delivered it paid living wages? Was it produced without hidden tax subsidies? Is it fresh, flavorful and nutritious?
The five of us – my wife and I, along with three teenagers – felt pride when we encountered local growers among the more than 60 who had been invited to offer samples of their signature products and sell their wares.
Tens of thousands of people wandered through the market stalls, pausing to listen to speakers or bands. Crowds stood three and four deep to sample bits of fresh goat’s milk ricotta from Pescadero, or walnuts from the Hain Ranch in Tres Pinos.
Paul Hain reported that sales were so brisk he had to raise his prices.
Phil Foster, of Pinnacle Organics in San Juan Valley, offered samples of his heirloom melons. The baskets of fruit were ripe and heavy with juice, and the samples were perfumed and sweet. As he juggled customers, a television crew set up to prepare for an interview.
For organic pioneers like Foster and Hain, Slow Food Nation represents a change. Once viewed as outsiders or unrealistic visionaries, the producers and growers at slow food nation shared wide smiles. Their vision is being embraced by countless consumers eager not only to eat well, but to contribute to their communities.
Hollister’s Catalan Family Farm, which offers in-season boxes of fresh, organic produce adequate for a family of four each week for just $22, offered mounds of vibrant peppers and summer produce.
Other local producers present were Four Sisters Farm, Happy Girls Kitchen and Coke Farm.
The experience of standing in the shadow of San Francisco’s City Hall and seeing local producers showcased in an international exposition was a thrilling reminder of what we too often take for granted in San Benito County.
Slow Food Nation spread itself across San Francisco. The marketplace at Civic Center was mirrored in the weekly market at the Ferry Building on Embarcadero. Chefs, authors and activists spoke at Fort Mason, where tasting pavilions were a sell-out hit.
At the end of a long day, my wife remarked that I seemed happy and at peace. I was.
I was thinking that supporting local agriculture allows us all to vote, and to vote with our dollars and our stomachs while enjoying the benefit of the special place we occupy.
I thought of how hard it would be to join our food community if we lived in the factory farm belt given over to wheat, corn and soy beans.
And I smiled as I thought, when you eat as much as I do, you get to vote at least twice.
