Food has always been important to me. There are certain smells, tastes, and even vessels such as glassware that take to me specific wrinkles in time, nostalgic memories, that bring me comfort and nourishment. My passion for understanding food cultures and systems has taken me all over the world. One of the foundational lessons that I have learned in my research, travels, and volunteer work with food and eaters is that sustainability in our food systems is food justice.

Initially when I thought about sustainable food systems I had thoughts of vertical farms, organic gardening tehcniques, farm to table, and other trendy lables and terms. While these are certainly part of the food sustainablity umbrella, I have learned that sustainability also means that our practices of food production, distribution, and consumption must be grounded in anti-capitalist and anti-racist methods to have truly sustaining food systems that are equitable, healthful, and environmentally friendly. As I reflect on my experiences across town and across continents, this has become abundantly more clear to me.

My introduction to sustainable food practices began half a world away, unexpectedly, without intention, and left me hungry for more. I found myself outside Moshi, Tanzania speaking with an Australian woman who owned the hostel I was staying in for the month. I had come to Tanzania with no plans and was discussing ways to be involved and busy during the days to get away from the hostel. She put me in touch with a permaculture farm near Kilimanjaro. In that moment I had no earthly idea what permaculture even meant, but I was excited about being on a farm and growing food. I learned that the purpose of the farm was to sustain a home for endanged and orphaned children. It was important that the farm was completely self-sufficient to provide for the children all throughout the year and without the dependence of the government (which was very problematic at the time) or other entities. I learned about permaculture practices from the farmworkers and the coordinator of the project. I asked lots of questions. One day, she handed me a book on permaculture practices to take home and study (which I graciously did).

This idea of self-sufficiency and autonomy over one’s food system became a strong tenet in how I began to think about sustainability and food. They were cultivating their own food for their own consumption, not for a market, and in this action alone they were working to de-commidfy food. There is also a sense of empowerment in being self-sufficient. Permaculture requires such a profound level intentionality. Everything from sourcing water, eradicating weeds and pests, and harvetsing had to be done with great purpose and intention. For example, there was a stream on the property that we used to irrigate the gardens and for drinking water.

I returned from Africa excited about these topics and with a new worldview in which to think about them. The next food adventure took place in a small town in northern Thailand where I learned that the socio-economic status of a person is directly tied into the kind of rice you receive (the most nutritious rice was a high premium) and how important culture played into meal making.

I spoke with a jovial chef and cooking instructor who was eager to talk all things food (my kind of person). He walked me through a market and upon reaching the rice vendor and seeing my suprise at such a variety of rice, explained the nutrient and price levels of each of the rice variations. Depending on your status, you received a certain type of rice. The most nutritious rice option reserved for the wealthy. Additionally, he taught me that the most important aspect to Thai cooking is balance. Every dish should have elements of sweet, sour, hot, spicey, and bitter simultaneously. On the train ride out to the culinary school, he discussed his passion for food and growing fresh organic ingredients.

The traditional style of serving Thai food is family style and everything comes out when it is ready. There are no courses per se. Sharing a meal in Thailand transcends time as you pass around soup and rice and organic vegetables and fish, you are sharing more than just food. You are sharing a moment, sharing reflections of the day and anticipations for tomorrow, and you are sharing community. Eating is very much a communal practice. I took home these flavors and lessons in community building and what it means to share food.

When we think about sustainable food systems, community should be at the heart of that conversation.

Travel with me next week to explore the foodscapes of Puerto Rico and Bogota and how citizens are working to disrupt colonial food practices.