Eating with Jack - Fresh is better
This piece is scheduled to run in the Capital Press in April 2006My Uncle Jack is a fine man, and one hell of a gardener. On of my fondest memories is the meal I shared with Uncle Jack and Uncle Tony’s at their house, on the beach in Brookings, Oregon, on the day when I caught my smallest salmon.
Jack and I begrudgingly endured the tempestuous sea that day, more out of a sense of familial obligation than an ardent desire to fish. I, still reeling from the previous evening’s revels, passed out while on the reel. The Captain, my Great Uncle Paul Haviland. furious at my dereliction of duty, threatened to throw me overboard. Jack was laughing as I shouted my salvation: “FISH ON!”
Unfortunately, the fish I caught was barely legal. Paul insisted that I keep the diminutive salmon. “We don’t throw back legal fish on my boat,” he chided, forcing me to take a picture with the fish in front of his beach house, while my Grandma and all of her sisters taunted me. Uncle Jack observed all of this with uncharacteristic silence.
We exchanged few words on the ride back to his house. However, after returning to his house, he explained to me that he had the perfect vegetables to compliment a small fish in his garden. It was like produce heaven, and I went on a shopping spree. Red, blue and yellow potatoes, bitter greens, snap peas, green beans, zucchini, corn, squash, tomatoes, blackberries, and edible flowers; we put together an incredible spread to compliment my modest fish.
As we ate dinner that night, I marveled at the flavor of the food. “I have never tasted such delicious food,” I marveled, “there is so much flavor on this plate.” My uncles chuckled knowingly at my revelation. “You haven’t grown much of your own food, Brian,” Jack said, “everything on this plate is less than eight hours old. It has also been grown with love and that, combined with the fact that we are eating together as a family, makes the biggest difference.”
It has been nearly fifteen years since we shared that meal, and my dear Uncle Jack is knocking on Heaven’s door as I write this. However, the lesson that I learned that day is more poignant now than it ever has been. The act of growing food is a sacred one, as is the act of eating. Most people don’t grow their own food, and it is easy for farmers to forget this as they go about their hectic lives struggling with nature to grow their crops. However, you should always remember that many of the best, most powerful memories in life are associated with communal meals.
When the days get long and tedious, beginning to blend into one, and when you feel that you are on the proverbial treadmill, try to remember this: growing food is a type of ministry. Farmers grow the food that makes meals, and meals make community. My Uncle Jack would like you to know this.
April 6, 2006
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posted by Brian J. Kenny @ 4:19 AM
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