The 100 Mile Challenge

I was watching this show today called "The 100 Mile Challenge." If you've never heard of it, it's a reality show that challenges a few different families to eat and drink items that can be found, all ingredients included, within 100 mile radius. I've watched the show about three times now and every time I try to imagine if this would be a "doable" challenge for my family. In Essex County, we're surrounded by the freshest fruits and vegetables in Canada, thanks to local farms and greenhouses. We have a dairy at the corner of our street, and I know plenty of local farmers who would oblige us with meat and eggs. But there would be no sugar, no coffee, no bread (anyone know a miller around here?), and GASP no tea! Additionally, I don't think I could consume any of the food products produced at local canneries because they contain things like vinegar. Where the hell does vinegar come from anyway? Of course, we could sustain ourselves quite comfortably for the summer, but what happens when winter comes? Would eating canned vegetables and fruits and potatoes (and any other "winter" vegetable) for that matter, suffice for the whole winter season? Would it be tasty? appetizing? disgusting? "The 100 mile challenge" claims to extend to visiting friend's homes and restauranting too. Here I would fail, miserably.

This show is aimed, of course, at raising awareness about Global Warming and the carbon footprint we leave on this earth by buying products that must be flown in from far off lands, such as my beloved tea. As I was thinking about what I'd have to eat to sustain acceptable levels of nutrition/food enjoyment, I thought of our honeymoon. I know this seems completely unrelated, but it fits, I promise. When we were planning our trip to Paris, Phil and I were giddy thinking about all of the local specialty foods we could bring back to Canada to stock our pantry. We're real foodies, hence the giddiness. Our list included foie gras, different types of cheeses (brie, chevre, Camembert, etc), Dijon mustards and if we could swing it, truffles (it turns out we couldn't "swing" the truffles. They were about 500 euros per pound-about $800 Canadian dollars-no joke). Sure enough a famous food store called "Fauchon" was right around the corner from our hotel. We stocked up on our goods and devised a plan to smuggle them through both the US and Canadian customs, though it turns out they just let us through anyway. When we returned home we were both delighted and disappointed that these very same products (name brands and all) were available at our local Superstore, via import, and for a cheaper price. How this worked out I will never know. My point is, they lost their, pardon the phrase, "je ne sais quoi." Here we were, flying to the country of origin to hunt down these perceived foodstuff rarities only to be stripped of all sense of meaning and singularness by the phenomenon of importing (yes I'm aware that importing is centuries old, but my point is try and find foie gras in Leamington fifteen years ago. Enough said). Of course, I am glad I don't have to fly to France every time I have a hankering for some foie gras and crackers, but it still seems that these foods have lost some of their magical appeal.

In addition to the 100 mile challenge's attempt to create awareness about global warming, I think it also hearkens back to a time when people had to slaughter their own animals, mill their own wheat and grow their own fruits and veggies to survive. These pioneers worked so hard to maintain their quality of life, and most importantly, appreciated the effort it took to cook, bake and preserve the flavours of the land. Every scrap of food was used, from vegetable peelings to animal fat. (As I write I feel a twinge of guilt for not picking the perfectly ripe black raspberries that are in my backyard as we speak. I've got to do that tomorrow.)

We planted a little vegetable garden this year to do our part (but it was mostly to help us save a few shekels and try our hand at canning.) Whatever our bounty is, I hope it will help sustain us through the winter. If I happen to stumble upon a Parisian tourist exploring the streets of Leamington, perhaps I will share with him a can of our homemade tomato sauce and tell him it's a Canadian delicacy.