Farms, Forks, and Foreigners: Eating Locally on the Road

Given the opportunity, I would have eaten palak paneer for every meal while in India.

No wait, that’s not true.

Given the opportunity, I would have self-constructed an IV-drip bag of the pureed green goodness and pumped my veins full of that stuff every time I was feeling low on vitamin D, cumin, or anything else blended into that glory bowl of curry.

Sure, I don’t even know the first thing about the mechanics of intravenous therapy.

And yes, it probably would be pretty difficult to weasel my way onto an already-packed Indian train with a drip bag and a 20 gauge peripheral IV jammed into one of those delicate veins where my inner elbow skin collides. (Don’t be impressed with my knowledge of medical jargon. I totally just ripped that off of Google.)

But I’m pretty sure I could make it work. (Again, it’s a misleading deep bowl of forest green slop, often blended with ground cashews to a consistency of creamy peanut butter. Which is kind of a bonus because given my travel partner’s anaphylactic tendencies when it comes to all things in the nut family, I was never obligated to share.)

Unfortunately, even with the schemes of central IV lines and Ziploc bags, I think I had palak paneer maybe once or twice during my time in India.

And the reason why my self-made infusion-of-nutrients pump would never work?

Spinach was out of season while I was in India.

(And I am only now connecting the dots that maybe, just maybe, this was the reason why I scored such a cheap flight from Bangkok to Kolkata.)

The idea of seasonal produce is not a foreign concept (especially in a place like India or other areas of Asia).

But it’s certainly a concept which I couldn’t help but become increasingly aware of each and every time I tried to order spinach and was met with the unreadable India head-nod-sway which could either mean yes, no, or “I’m totally uninterested in anything you have to say but I’m going to keep responding to you in this way because it’s just really fun to test your patience.” You know, depending on the mood.

It was in my experience during these travels, that more often than not, a local’s diet is based almost entirely on what is in season.

Momos stuffed full of hearty winter vegetables in chilly Darjeeling, India.

Durian fruit suspiciously blended into just about every smoothie in sweltering Kampot, Cambodia.

Browning coffee beans layering the bottom of every mug in Yogyakarta, Indonesia.

Roadside berries outside a spice garden in Penang, Malaysia.

(On a cautionary note: I would definitely not encourage eating the latter. I felt incredibly nauseous afterwards and convinced myself that the berries were actually some unlabeled hallucinogenic.)

These were the goodies that could be naturally grown in the surrounding areas so logically, people ate them.

Back “home,” we use charming labels like “farm-to-table” or “organically harvested with unconditional love” to describe the idea of eating locally grown food.

But to most in Asia?

They just call it “dinner.”

The farm-to-table movement isn’t a difficult one to understand (and definitely doesn’t require you to plagiarize anything off Google). It’s actually quite simple, really. Eat the food which surrounds you.

So why is it that something so foreign to us Westerners is so achievable in other pockets of Asia?

Well, I’m not sure, really.

And Google didn’t offer much.

So I asked Cate Lazen, a super rad lady from New Jersey who I’ve written about before and knows a lot (probably more than Google) when it comes to travelling with a different set of eating habits.

“Suburban communities in North American have large supermarkets which serve even larger geographical spaces. These are often not in walking distance of homes so people begin to shop infrequently and they often shop in bulk.”

Cate’s right. Maybe we do love ourselves a little Costco trip…like, every weekend. (Because really, there just may come a time when we’ll need four value-pack containers of Miracle Whip. And when that day comes, we’ll be patting ourselves on the back for ransacking the Costco condiment aisle on both Saturday and Sunday.)

But why is there still that missing link between the farmers and the fork?

“The farm-to-table approach seems to support more old-fashioned buying habits- daily shopping in specialty shops- produce, meats, breads, dry goods. People in North American don’t seem to have the time, resources, or interest in daily shopping over great distances.”

Again, you can’t find that on Google.

If you really think about it, besides that one kid you knew growing up whose Mom would make hot chocolate with real coca, there just isn’t that same connection between us and our food. We consider the idea of people selling local produce to be such a novelty that when traveling, we often make a point to visit markets, outdoor stalls, and all those other foodie things that are pretty much unavailable at “home.” In this voyeuristic way, we can get an idea of a local’s day-to-day by visiting such a place and simply observing their eating habits, bartering skills, and tolerance for the smell of durian. 

But we (okay I really mean “me” but thinking collectively is always a riot) shouldn’t be so hard on ourselves.  At the very least, the farm-to-table movement is something that North American is trying to bring back into our (see what fun collectively can be?!) daily habits.

And I’m totally cool with that.

Want to know what “local produce” means to people in Mexico and El Salvador? Get your organic-self onto one of Colibri’s tours.  They probably won’t provide you with an IV bag of artichoke dip but you know, I hear it tastes a lot better when served with some triangle-shaped pieces of pita bread, anyways.