Over the past few months the roof terrace where I live has been transformed into a herb haven. Bit by bit we have added new plants and attempted to grow our own food. So far the only real winners have been our cherry tomatoes and radishes. Most every meal these past few months has had garden fresh flavour added to it. I find cooking quite therapeutic in itself but adding your own herbs to any dish is all the more satisfying. My parents, having much greener fingers than I, and a real garden to boot, have outshone all efforts I have made. Their home-grown potatoes are the best I’ve tasted and helping my dad to pick them right before they were cooked was such a wonderful feeling, as nauseating as that may sound. All this thought of home grown goods got me thinking about the phenomenon that is Slow Food. I have heard of the term for many years but have never really known what it stood for. Is it simply a forum for anti-capitalist, anti-consumerist and anti-globalization debate?
With its mission being to promote “good, clean and fair food” (slowfood.com) I find it hard to understand why it has not achieved a greater level or popularity since it was founded almost 20 years ago. Running a quick search in IBSS for “slow food” I got a selection of 17 results (10 of which had abstracts). I can fully understand why Slow Food (hereafter referred to as SF) endeavours to broaden the appeal of typical local produce (“The practical aesthetics of traditional cuisines: slow food in Tuscany”. Miele, Mara and Murdoch, Jonathan. Sociologia ruralis, 42:4, 2002). I sometimes find it depressing to see giant flavourless strawberries and the likes on supermarket shelves all year round. At the same time I would mourn the loss of choice available to us at present. We need to find a happy medium.
I wholly agree that it is important to make an effort to buy local seasonal products but the reality is that most of us still need to buy discount supermarket goods in order to survive the credit crunch. I am passionate about food, with a chef for a father, my family tend to be somewhat food obsessed. The idea of SF really strikes a chord with me (“Out of time: fast subjects and slow living”. Parkins, Wendy, Time & Society, 13:2-3, 2004) but at £35 annual membership I do not feel I can justify becoming a member.
As for eating out, I love the idea of dining in a restaurant that ethically sources its menu ingredients. My father once ran a restaurant in the 1970s in which he used only fresh, local produce. Absolutely nothing from a tin! It makes my mouth water at the thought of it. Sadly, it proved too costly and as a result not financially viable. The SF restaurant, while a clever marketing angle, is simply a modern luxury I cannot afford (Reverse psychology marketing: the death of traditional marketing and the rise of the new ‘pull’ game. Sinha, Indrajit and Foscht, Thomas, Palgrave MacMillan, 2007). It ranks up there with organic food markets as a way of life I long for, but know I cannot be a part of (“Sensing Cittàslow: slow living and the constitution of the sensory city”. Pink, Sarah, Senses and Society, 2:1, 2007).
An article in Food, Culture & Society (8:2, 2005) rang all too true stating that, ‘Slow Food’s efforts to develop an ethics of taste are, to some extent, undermined by its failure to adequately challenge its own elitism and privilege’ (“The pleasure of diversity in slow food’s ethics of taste”. Donati, Kelly). Sadly, as with many farmers’ markets, it feels as though the SF community is out of my price range. For now, at least, I shall have to make do with my terrace herb garden. I would far rather be a part of an independent SF movement, the one in my own home, a.k.a. the credit munch.
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