Feed me on the Motorway

I don’t think I’d be popular in a book club; my choices would be almost entirely non fiction and maybe a little too serious for some. My appetite to learn and be informed is only broken a few times a year due to an exhaustive desire for escapism after trudging through pages and pages of depressing but necessary accounts of the state of the natural world or the devious and scary (and broken) food industry.

A selection of what’s on my shelves right now

Nevertheless, I keep piling the books up, the stack getting higher as I glean more knowledge, want to explore more avenues and am influenced by recommendations. I can’t be an expert but I can try to educate myself better; for conversation, argument and empathy. I crave the power of a photographic memory or an ability to clearly recall facts and figures but alas my brain flits off to the next thing too quickly and all those hours of reading in fascination are not exactly stored away neatly the way I’d like them to be.

The many and important forms of nourishment

I was the same through my years of education; not a great ability to regurgitate quotes or facts but able to creatively think through problems or use language to effectively communicate my arguments or opinions (basically I like to ramble and blether!). We are starting to truly learn how important diet and lifestyle are for brain function and since we’ve only one brain it’d be great to learn how to more successfully protect its decline.

Perspective and wide open space for clear head thinking

I spend time walking out along my coast pondering these things, trying to get it straight in my head, wondering what I could do better and how I could support my community more. But we are evidently up against it…

Stopping at the Services outside Dublin mum asked me to grab an orange and I couldn’t believe the utterly alien choice that has become the norm for places like this and for our population, it’s not like this in most other parts of Europe. The only fresh thing I could see were bananas. EVERYTHING else was in a packet. This is not food. This is not nourishment. It’s certainly not going to help our brains or support the concentration we need for driving.

No food here

After reading Clare Finney’s ‘Hungry Heart,’ a beautiful memoir about a lifelong (though complex) love of food and the joy that comes with it and listening to the Food Programme about the horror of emulsifiers I was stunned by this juxtaposition in the Services, a total disregard for health and happiness, fake food. How did we get to this?

Mum’s wheaten, mum’s marmalade

I flick through beautiful cookbooks daily; the fresh, delicious ingredients popping out of the pages, the writer describing their love of a certain dish, the nostalgia of family meals, the excitement of the changing seasons, the process of creating. Or stories of growers planting, tending then harvesting their produce, with respect, nurturing then nourishing their bodies. This connection is lost in the vast of array of packets, plastic and colour on offer at the services. It’s a million miles from the food I love to read about and th food I love to eat. We are bombarded, we are misled.

A history of self sufficiency forgotten in the lazy beds

And yet the consumer must have driven this change? Where did it all go wrong?! When we’re on a long journey we should be able to choose to eat something appropriate; though this could lead me to the wider debate about nourishment in schools, hospitals, sport, advertising campaigns and so on.

Thankfully the way home brought a comforting haven, a hopeful light in the dark; Mc Nallys Family Farm Shop, nestled in off the motorway in quiet countryside. Fresh, seasonal produce, delicious food and coffee. I was able to buy my veg for the week and some bits for the larder.

This is what we deserve, this should be what we demand.