A documentary about food waste made me both laugh and consider. Eat It is a low tech experiment by a couple who wanted to address the issue of what we throw away. The plan was to go for six months eating edibles that were headed for the landfill. Easy, perhaps, in theory. But climbing into dumpsters in the dark, and sweet talking grocery store employees to let them buy the expired salads was borderline embarrassing. 

 

Grant and Jen interviewed farmers, truck drivers, and warehouse managers who deal with the cascade of food that does not sell. It turns out that there are specs for bananas, and if the curvature is not enough of a smile, thousands of bunches are dumped. Peaches and nectarines, which are juicy inside, may have small imperfections that render them unwanted. Expirations dates, which producers admit are overly cautious, give us an excuse to toss items that are still delicious. Then there are mysteries. Grant and Jen found an entire dumpster, eight feet deep, filled with containers of hummus that had no visible problems. 

 

Admittedly their diet was erratic. One day Jen was hoarding the last two eggs in case she should want to bake, and the next day they had twenty cartons full. They invited friends over to share the wealth and bake quiches. When they had a windfall of fair trade chocolate bars, they gorged for a bit, and then decided to save them for Halloween. Neighborhood children were pleased. 

 

Farmers talked about the forty per cent of food production that never makes it to a plate. This does not even speak to the cavalier habits that lead to garbage bags bursting with half eaten lunches. 

 

It surprised me to learn that during WWll there was a concerted effort to encourage frugality with food. It was linked to the effort to save resources, and seen as a patriotic measure. Surely my own mother absorbed that message, and conveyed it to her children over supper. 

 

Caterers spoke about the pressure to over supply their customers, with the inevitable result of wasted lasagna. Part of the desired presentation is to include abundance, sparing anyone from scraping the bottom of the chafing dish. 

 

My mind played with ways I can contribute to the solution. I can pick up bent cans, and slightly bruised fruit. I can pay attention to the contents of my crisper before things go wilty.

 

But it also correspondences with another kind of nourishment. The blessings that are plentiful in our lives sometimes go to waste. The cerulean sky and flaming trees outside may elude my eyes, if I never leave the living room. The myriad of well functioning organs in my body will escape notice, if that focus is hijacked by a toothache. Blessings from a year ago may seem to have gone past their expiration. It would be silly to be grateful so long after the fact. I am guilty of ignoring a safe arrival, or a friendly check out worker. Their opposites are often the stories we tell. 

 

 

 "I will make them and the places all around My hill a blessing; and I will cause showers to come down in their season; there shall be showers of blessing. Then the trees of the field shall yield their fruit, and the earth shall yield her increase." Ezekiel 34