BEE Japan

Food. It keeps us alive. It gives us energy to move our legs to turn the pedals to keep going down the road, around the corner, up the next hill. But who really wants to eat only out of necessity? Granted, a large portion of the world does, but not by choice. For those of us who have the incredible freedom to choose between a plain bowl of rice or a delightfully, delectably spiced plate of, say, Thai or Indian curry, or Korean bibimbap, or sauteed veggies and brown rice, or, better yet, between rice or potatoes or bread with beans or veggies or any one of countless sauces or… Well, who would take the dry rice?

Perhaps the person who decided to be a member of BEE Japan 2008、is sitting in a restaurant slightly hungry after biking for most of the day, and has just discovered that every dish on the menu contains meat or fish. [For this trip, we are choosing to avoid both meat and fish, as part of our commitment to a lifestyle as independent of environmentally-damaging and unsustainable industries as possible.]

Zannen. Too bad. Dry rice (or something equally unappealing) on a regular basis? And pedaling 70 to 90 kilometers every day? Not a combination for happiness.

Thank goodness for the core group of cooks, bakers, and foodies populating our six-member team.

Yesterday afternoon, shortly after arriving at the organic farm where we would spend the next day, we were sitting around on a wood floor (rescued from an old hospital and refinished) in the hand-built home of our gracious hosts and discussing what needed to be done. When asked if we would like to help prepare the evening meal, multiple pairs of eyes sparked instantly.　Being on a farm generally means that you have a wealth of fresh veggies at your disposal — as fresh as fresh gets. Straight off the plant and into the pot.

In the kitchen, we found crates of carrots, cucumbers, potates, onions, peppers, tomatoes, green beans, red cabbage, eggplant — plus fresh peaches, plums, and nectarines. Minds spinning, mouths watering…then knives　chopping, water boiling, sauces simmering, bread baking, egg whites being whipped into stiff peaks, and Mercedes` peach cobbler steaming.

Three cooks and three hours later, twelve people reassembled in the main room of the farmhouse. Gathered in an oval on the floor (the table was too small for our crew), we said ittadakimasu and dug in to a feast of green bean and potato salad, red cabbage and carrot salad, ragout, and fresh bread, with peach cobbler, peaches topped with meringue, and warm custard for dessert.

Not only did we thoroughly enjoy the meal, and fill ourselves with more than enough energy for the next day`s ride, but we also had the unique privilege of experiencing a meal whose origins we could, for the most part, trace. We knew how our veggies had been grown, who had grown them, and where they were grown.

A number of recent books and various movements have brought to light how little most people know about where their food comes from and how it gets to them. What pesticides were used on that brilliant red tomato you just ate? How clean was the processing plant where your hamburger meat was ground? At what point in the ripening period was that juicy strawberry picked (why does it taste so bland? and how many vitamins does it really contain?)? And who was employed in picking it? Were they legally employed? Were they paid a living wage? What about your lettuce that claims to be organic? What is the definition of organic? Is the so-called organic farm mass-producing that lettuce and distributing it across the country actually doing anything less-damaging to the environment than the regular-old-farm selling lettuce at half the price?

If you`ve never stopped to take a moment before taking a bite and ponder the processes that brought your food to the table and the impact those processes have on people and the planet, try it today.

For interesting reading on these topics, check out `The Omnivore`s Dilemna` by Michael Pollan and `Animal, Vegetable, Miracle` by Barbara Kingsolver.