Sunday, October 20, 2013
It's Called Chop Stuff Up and Put it In a Bowl.
A few weeks ago everyone in my gym class was given a flyer for Power Supply and a few samples.
We all talked about it and checked out the prices (seriously affordable) and I couldn't figure out why I had such a negative taste in my mouth about it.
I love anything that connects normal, busy people with healthy food options—and I would have pushed puppies into traffic to have something like this available to me during the campaign season.
I brushed it off, kept my thoughts to myself, and carried on.
Today in my kitchen it finally hit me why I was so averse.
As I was considering signing up for PS, I realized I would be saving money on my weekly grocery bill; I would save myself the trouble of walking to the farmer's market and Yes Organic before coming home to unpack and cook all my meals for the week; I would save myself the time of looking up recipes or calling up my grandmother to ask advice on the nuances of mirepoix and oven temperatures.
And there it is.
I feel sorry for people who think their lives are so busy and their time is so precious that they're above chopping their own onions or watching squirrels from a kitchen window while mindlessly peeling garlic between sticky fingertips.
Right now my house smells like ginger and garlic and heaven.
Walking to the farmer's market picking out produce is the stuff life is made of.
Using technical questions as an excuse to connect with people I love is a joy. Stirring soup with the spoon my mother used and taking more pride in meals cooked for friends than just about anything else in the world... those are sources of joy.
So of course I'm not against Power Supply or any of the many small businesses like them—they're providing a much-needed service to people whose jobs require it.
I just remember that lifestyle, that lack of balance in my life, and it chills me to think that someone would prefer that, would look to a meal service to give them more time to spend at the office.
They can eat vegetarian or paleo meals without having to think about it.
I remember it used to gall my grandmother when she learned that it cost less to buy a dress than it cost to buy fabric to make her own. Growing up for her it had been the opposite—and that was a time when she and everyone else made most of their own clothes. They valued each piece, tailored to fit them, and knew how to make a straight hem and take in seams as effortlessly as breathing. Learning to sew from both my grandmothers and mother taught me more about their patience and creativity than it did about sewing.
So now we're talking about a generation of people for whom it's actually more financially responsible to buy pre-made food (healthy and awesome as it might be) than see the joy in making it themselves; unnecessary to look up why it's important to eat certain types of vegetables or intuitively know when kale season is about to end and tomato season is about to begin.
And I feel so, so sorry for them.