Advertisement

Your City

I resolve to… Slow my food

Can I make a confession? I, Adria Vasil, Ecoholic columnist, never soak dried beans. Ever. I crack cans instead. I know, I know, you’re either gasping or yawning at the news, but hear me out.

[rssbreak]

Ever since I was trained to prepare weekday meals as my mom called in instructions from work, I’ve been a breakneck-speed chef. If a recipe takes 20 minutes or less, I’ll master it. As long as the ingredients are organic and healthy and can be cooked in one stack (buckwheat noodles boiling on the bottom, broccoli steaming on top and a cold tahini dressing stirred up on the side) or in one pan (sizzling garlic white beans with heaping salad on the side), I’ll make you a damn tasty meal.

But you can see why I’ve given a miss to family heirloom recipes like homemade Greek bread or moussaka.

My only problem with this is the green guilt of being a fast foody. I know opening a tin of industrially canned chickpeas is a major no-no in the age of bisphenol A can linings. Rest assured, I only buy the BPA-free kind from say, Eden or PC Organics (by the way, Amy’s Kitchen is going BPA-free in the new year), but using a can opener is still a serious violation among slow food convivialists.

I also know it involves more packaging (albeit recyclable) than just scooping a cup of dried beans from the never-opened bulk bag in my cupboard. Ditto for the tetra pak of organic broth I drizzled into last night’s meal. (Really, I usually try to stick to the dehydrated organic cubes, since they’re less packaged, but come on – the cubes’ spices are too overpowering for certain recipes.)

See how I keep peppering all my statements with qualifiers and excuses? That’s deep-seated shame bubbling up through my sentence fragments, guilt that’s only heightened when I quick-fry some bright green unsprayed rapini from California in mid-December.

Not that slow food recipes don’t get made in my house. Let’s just say that if a borscht takes eight hours to stew or a split pea soup takes four hours to simmer, I’m there till the end (or is that “at the end”?) to appreciate the work that’s gone into it (and ask for a second helping).

You can see why my mother has offered to give my boyfriend, not me, a personal training session on perfecting homemade spelt pie crusts.

So as much as the prospect has my heart palpitating about where I’ll find the time, in the new year I vow to dig deep inside to discover my own passion for slow food. That means I will try more often to make broth from scratch instead of buying it in a cube, box or jar grow sunflower sprouts in my kitchen like my big brother taught me to instead of pulling them prewashed from a bag make homemade almond milk instead of guzzling a carton of rice milk.

And, yes, I’ll even soak some beans overnight.

Why? Because when you slow down to think about it, the cult of the ready-made gives short shrift to the farmers who nurtured their produce in the rain and beating sun till the seasons perfected their offerings.

Because our culture of instant dinners only accelerates our collective amnesia and skill erosion around making homemade, nutrient-packed meals.

Because kitchen shortcuts sever our bonds to our gastronomic and agricultural heritage.

Because quick fixes almost always come with more packaging.

And because, some small voice over my shoulder is telling me, soaking almonds overnight isn’t very hard or time-consuming.

I already stock up on as much as they offer at winter farmers’ markets like Evergreen Brick Works, but first things first: instead of reaching for the ready-made polenta from my mushroom guy, I’ll take his shiitakes and make my own – and not with instant polenta next time, I swear.

But there’s a caveat. I’m putting the rest of my resolution on hold until mid-February, when my next frenzied book deadline will have passed.

Until then, my 20-minute dinners are here to stay as much-needed refuelling breaks (breaks that can, if not safeguarded, erode into five-minute cereal suppers). So if you see me in the checkout aisle paying for packaged broth on January 2, no kvetching. Yet. Instead, share your bright ideas for getting me started.

Recipe suggestions welcome.

adriav@nowtoronto.com

Advertisement

Exclusive content and events straight to your inbox

Subscribe to our Newsletter

This field is for validation purposes and should be left unchanged.

By signing up, I agree to receive emails from Now Toronto and to the Privacy Policy and Terms & Conditions.

Recently Posted