Beets or turnips, Cilantro, Frisee, Garlic scapes, Kohlrabi, Lettuce, Mustard greens, Radishes, Scallions
I bought a button down shirt a few weeks ago. I don’t buy real shirts often, for obvious reasons. When—infrequently—I do put on clothes free of oil stains, paint splotches, frayed collars and holes people tend to remark on it. Perhaps if I did more clothes shopping I would not have paid as much attention to all the extra stuff I got with my shirt.
Useless extra stuff I hasten to add. I don’t want any of you feeling bad about missing out on some fabulous exclusive shirt emporium offering enticing perks to its customers. There was no excellent cup of espresso offered while I contemplated my purchase, no coupon for dry cleaning, not even any obsequious admiration of my remarkable physique and obviously impeccable taste in shirts. No, I got none of that. But I did get a plastic bag, cardboard, tissue paper, stiff plastic collar inserts, plastic ties for the labels and some pins in addition to the cotton material and thread, dye and plastic buttons that were actually needed to make the shirt.
To be fair, I could find uses for some of the extras. Pins are obviously reusable (not that I ever use them), and I suppose I could come up with some other purpose for a plastic bag or a piece tissue paper. Perhaps I could nestle a delicate, ripe heirloom tomato in the paper and slip it into the bag for transport. Then if I bought lots of shirts I could package the whole tomato crop for free. At least I can recycle the cardboard. And if plastics manufacturers took their social responsibilities more seriously (by which, of course, I mean if they were compelled by law to do so) I would probably be able to recycle all the plastic too or put it in the compost pile. Well, I could have put the plastic that came with the shirt in the compost pile. I mean put it in the compost pile and have it break back down into non-toxic organic matter.
I admit that all the plastic and paper and pins made the shirt look good in the store, all neatly folded and flat, with the collar held perfectly in place. I understand the point of presentation. I just think we may be overdoing it a bit. I do not wish to suggest that we create a totally utilitarian world in which everything must serve a sober function in order to justify its existence. Aside from the fact that such world is entirely unachievable—when was the last time we managed to agree on what is absolutely necessary?—it would also be intensely boring. If I were trying to live a rigidly frugal life I would not be out buying a white button down shirt with blue stripes when I already have a drawer full of t-shirts that do an entirely (or almost entirely in certain cases) adequate job even if they are a little grubby and worn. In fact, it is not entirely clear that I could justify having the t-shirts either since an old potato sack might do much the same thing (though in defense of my t-shirts they are rather less itchy than potato sacks).
Given the drilling, timbering, mining, refining, smelting, pulping, molding and god knows what else required to produce the objects intended solely to display my shirt attractively to potential buyers, it is hard not to think we could do with a lot less presentation. Surely we can find better things to do with our time than ripping up the earth in order to potentially increase the sales of consumer goods. I feel confident I would have been able to assess the merits of my shirt at least as effectively if it had merely been neatly folded and put in a pile on a crate. Of course, that would leave a lot of drillers, lumberjacks, miners, smelters, etc. out of work. But if we are willing to cover their wages every time we buy a shirt then surely we would also be willing to use the money we would save on buying more simply merchandised apparel to give them jobs restoring forests and mountains, cleaning up toxic waste sites, and building renewable energy infrastructure. Instead of making my shirt look good they could make my planet more presentable.
But it is not just the shirt that has me thinking about sensible packaging. It’s your vegetables too. I have been contemplating other ways to pack the shares for some time, ways that might help ensure they still look presentable when you get them. In an ideal world (my ideal world) you would all come to farm to get your produce and see how nice it looks straight from the field. But since for most of you neither your actual nor, most likely, ideal world involves making that weekly trip we need a good, practical way to get your share to you. A waxed cardboard box seems like it would do the trick, and we have 1100 of them sitting in the barn now. Sturdy and reusable, they should afford your vegetables greater protection than the bags. The question is whether or not I can afford them. At $1.28 apiece, the cost adds up fast. If I used them every week and never got any back I would have to spend nearly $5000 a year on boxes. That I cannot afford. In order to make this work I need to get a substantial number of the boxes back in a usable condition. I recognize that this would require a small extra effort on your part and may present logistical challenges at some sites. So we will try using the boxes soon and see what happens. If they come back to the farm we will keep using them. If not we will either have to go back to the bags or, if you think the boxes are worth it, ask for a box deposit to cover the extra cost. If you have any opinions about this or ideas about how to make it work well please share them with me.
A weekly trip to the farm may not work for you, but I hope the occasional one does. This Saturday, for instance, when we have our first farm day of the season from 10:00 to 2:00. You can see how good the crops look when they are still in the field, meet us and other members, get a sneak preview of those boxes and try a simple farm task to reconfirm your decision to let us do the work for you. As part of a season-long effort to offer you more information about what we are up to on the farm, we will focus on cover cropping for this farm day: on what that means, how we do it, and why we make the effort to grow acres of inedible crops that we just plow under. We will also provide drinks and snacks. Feel free to bring a picnic and friends (but please leave your dogs at home).
In anticipation of visiting the crops in their native habitat, you can eat some in your native habitat. Such as some mustard greens, which you could use in a salad with a dressing of oil, vinegar, Dijon mustard, soy sauce, sesame oil, mirin, chopped scallion, sugar, salt and pepper. Or turnips sautéed slowly in butter. Or frisee in a salad with roasted beets.
However you prepare the vegetables in your share this week, do not forget to spend some time on their presentation. While I do not have any specific recommendations, you might want to consider an arrangement involving a certain amount of plastic and tissue paper, which can really show things off to advantage. You might, however, want to avoid using any pins just to be safe.
