Locovore Vs. Locavore
There are certain things I am crazy for (locovore), irrespective of how far they are from our soul food kitchen in Tel Aviv. To wit: Marcona almonds (Spain), boquerones and bottarga (somewhere semi-distant in the Mediterranean), fresh truffles (Europe), aged balsamic vinegar (Italy), Stilton Cheese (England), heirloom grains of yellow grits and white corn flour and red peas (South Carolina), Vidalia onions (Georgia), wild shrimp and blue crab (Savannah), Wagyu beef (Snake River Farms).
And yet there’s the passion for sourcing things very locally (locovore): less of a carbon footprint, supporting of a local economy, reveling in the creativity that comes from the so-called constraints of living within one’s own regional seasonalities, the virtuousness of sustainability.
Heart. And Mind. Stomach, versus well, stomach. It’s like the War of the Roses here in this mental kitchen of mine. With no respite.
The obvious way out of this dilemma is to suggest that there isn’t one: It’s not an “or” question, it’s an “and” solution. Which is just so lovely Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm win-win everything is coming up daisies kinda solution, making me wonder why I hadn’t thought of that before.
But obviously we have all thought of that before, if not consciously at least through our daily practice: leaning on the cheap and local for most things, topping that off with some of the special stuff when it avails itself and when we can afford it. But that’s really not a solution, is it?
I’m actually going to propose something practical here: That we set a hard and fast goal of only purchasing exotic foodstuffs, say, 5% of the time for a strictly-determined amount of time. Then, cut that target in half for the ensuing period. And so on.
Obviously, to get any traction with this sustainability campaign, we need a catchy buzz phrase, something like “Loco for Loca.” OK, I never said I had marketing chops. You come up with something that resonates. I’m with you every local step of the way.