Close to home

I wake to a crisp September morning, sun streaming through the trees, leaves beginning to fade as acorns fall. I pad downstairs to the kitchen, put the kettle on the stove and turn on the electric burner. I unwrap a tea bag and place it in my mug. When I open the refrigerator, the light pops on and the motor engages in a busy hum. I take out a carton of soy milk. I pour organic cereal into my favorite bowl. I grab a peach from the bowl, head for the dining room and set my place with a paper napkin and utensils.

Today it occurs to me that I have never once considered where my breakfast comes from and where the detritus goes to once I have finished my meal, nor how much energy has been used to create it and bring it to my table. But after delving into the subject, I learned quite a bit about how my food consumption contributes to unsustainable environmental practices.

My organic cereal, for instance, originates in California, which means that it consumes 3,000 miles worth of fossil fuel to arrive at the supermarket in Honesdale; from there I drive it on the last leg of its journey to Lackawaxen. Even before it became cereal, the ingredients used to make it had to be shipped to a factory, where energy was expended in its processing.

Perusing the label of the carton of soy milk, I learn only that it is distributed from Elizabeth, NJ. Where did the soybeans grow? Or the evaporated cane juice? Likewise, the tea package tells me only that it has been distributed from Monroe Township, NJ, which was once predominantly farmland but now grows massive distribution centers and retirement villages, like the one where my mother lives.

The peach has made the shortest trip to arrive at my table, grown somewhere on a real farm in New Jersey.

After my satisfying breakfast, which has nourished me at considerable expense to the environment, I throw away the tea bag and the peach pit, and after a series of breakfasts, I will toss out a biodegradable cereal box, a milk carton, countless tea bags and the box they came in, as well as the cellophane the box was wrapped in, all of which may seem to disappear into thin air but will actually end up in a landfill.

The miracles of post-WWII life have made the forces that create our food completely invisible. When people moved to cities and suburbs from farms, we abdicated control over our food to corporate agriculture. It is no coincidence that global warming coincides with this mass exodus off the land.

According to Worldwatch.org, on average, U.S. supermarket food travels 1,500 to 2,500 miles before it reaches the family table, as much as 25 percent farther than two decades ago. Of the total energy used in this country per year, four percent is used to produce food, and between 10 and 13 percent is used to transport it. Energy for packaging and refrigeration adds more to already hefty carbon emissions.

One of the most profound ways to help the environment (and your health) is to buy food grown locally. Buying local food reduces the amount of petroleum consumed for transportation by as much as 95 percent. It can help reduce packaging waste, especially if you bring your own reusable bags to the farm stand.

And if you’ve ever eaten a locally grown peach, you know how much better farm-fresh food tastes than food that lingers for weeks in warehouses, trucks and supermarkets. When food arrives directly to your table from the field, it retains valuable nutrients that might otherwise be lost in transit.

Here’s another, less obvious reason, to become a “locavore:” Many farmers are forced out of business because they can’t compete with behemoth agribusiness. Unable to support their families, they must sell their land which is then used for housing or commercial development. Buying from local farmers, therefore, preserves our agricultural heritage and the landscape that defines our area by preserving farmland. Organic farm products have the added benefit of promoting fertile soil and clean water.

This harvest season, I plan to take advantage of the blessings of our region. Conveniently located farmers’ markets are open through November, and roadside stands sell fresh, home grown produce. Becoming a locavore is one of the easiest and most effective ways to act locally and think globally.