Rooting and Fruiting

One pleasant Spring day as the family was otherwise engaged with gadgets, I came across a new concept - Food-mile. It apparently refers to the distance your food has traveled to reach the plate. And the shorter it is, the better it is for oneself and also the ecosystem. This is a kind of re-emphasis on the 'Eat Local' phenomenon.

As someone who grew up in a tropical developing country, I remember all the fuss over 'exotic' food. For many it was a sort of social status, to be able to afford and source those ingredients that for many years had only been read about or seen in photographs. In fact, for the longest time the most expensive vegetables were English vegetables, like carrots and beets, 'French' beans (?!)  fresh peas and cauliflower blooms. My parents often speak about piling their plates with vegetables that have almost disappeared from the markets today. It is with wonder that I think of red and black corn that served as after-school snacks for them, lotus stem fries that went well with 'rasam' rice and the coconut flower that was a delicacy,not to mention red okra, a plethora of wild greens and berries all of which constituted their diet. I can only vaguely remember the taste of desi corn before the craze for American sweet corn took over. As a teenager, I tasted the succulent coconut flower (bought from a roadside cart), which resides inside a sprouted coconut, is off-white and refreshingly coconutty. 

With near-lost native vegetables and fruits, we have also lost a part of our culinary heritage. But on looking closer, we see that most of our ancient cookery books as well as medicine all stress on the importance of eating locally available and home-grown food, which is something that Western science has reiterated. And so, with the new luxury of having a back as well as a front yard, I decided to exercise my green fingers, thereby attempting to shorten the food-mile. Two pumpkin vines merrily flowered in the front garden as potatoes and peas plants were gaining height behind. As their growth pace was that of the snails that I fought to keep at bay, I knew that they would only be ready when the autumn strikes. And so I brainwashed a friend to go with me to a farm that promised fresh produce, fun experience and photo sessions.

On a sunny day, we drove through the Dutch countryside to Plukkerij Framblij, a family-run farm and a Facebook-famous spot. Walking through a greenhouse we each picked up small buckets to fill with fruits. Rows and rows of strawberry bushes welcomed us. I have never understood the popularity of this sour little fruit which were very few in number. Next, we walked through aisles of raspberry plants, richly laden with fruit. I ate while filling my bucket, only to realise that I was singularly responsible for almost all of the raspberry harvest this season. The children's excitement vaporised upon plucking a few handfulls of produce. And so, leaving them in the play area with their fathers for security, we moved on.The series of interconnected greenhouses meant that we could pluck fresh aubergines, capsicums, tomatoes, beans that even a picky eater like me wouldn't fuss about. (I understood later that it was simply the high of plucking fresh veggies and that I really couldn't make myself eat them :P)

It was amazing how they could tame grape vines that yielded green, red and black grapes, cherry and apricot trees, blackberry gorse and red currants when I have so much trouble in getting my few plants to behave. 

In addition, they had farm fresh honey, home made jams and preserves, all of which caught my fancy but no one else's. 

With fruits that started to weigh more than they did an hour back, we trooped into their cafe shushing the children's hunger for ice creams. I use the word cafe here for the lack of an apt term. It was a dingy little space that kept out the sun and was a combination of few mismatched tables, chairs and sofas that seemed to be picked up at the local recycling centre. All of them had a layer of dust and the sofa also had a rip, adding to the antique feel. Thanks to Corona times, we each had a supply of sanitizers and tissues, so could clean up one rickety table and feed the kids. Hurrying outside, I was again able to enjoy the experience, more so when I saw a pony giving rides to squealing children.

 

I was amazed at how the family commercialized such a simple concept. A creative business venture. True, farming is no mean feat, but for a small farm which cant really deal with scaling up in order to profit enormously, they have done well. From charging an entrance fee and charge per 100g of produce, they have planned their profits efficiently. Also, they seem to have friendly old men (brothers/cousins) stationed near every type of fruit, who gladly help us in choosing the best fruits available. 

This seems like a very doable and adaptable concept, even for India. The tropical weather is bound to be best for our native plants, the only glitch may be water procurement. If that is managed, with so much attention being given to organic, local produce; it might turn out to be a money spinner for our poor farmers. 

Meanwhile, the summer has come to a spluttering end. I haven't managed to do as much or as well with my garden, but am glad that I haven't inflicted much damage to my crops. Feeding them with kitchen scraps and rice water diligently, I am now the proud mother of a bunch of potatoes, some peas and two dwarfed pumpkins!