Thanksgiving was a little different for our family this year. For the first time, we harvested and ate poultry we had raised ourselves, and some of the fixings around the table were from our own garden as well.
We gave the urbanite "eat local" crowd a run for their money with these actions, though I agree with them that it is rewarding. And I must admit I can't wait to repeat the process for the other feasts of the year that are coming up soon.
Seeing food go from walking and squawking to plucked and stuffed is actually quite a jarring experience the first time round. A few short generations ago, nearly half of all families would have lived on a farm and slaughtered their own food. Even the urbanites of those years could very likely have run into live animals on their way to market and slaughter houses, or even observed whole, raw animals hanging in the back of restaurants and butcher shops.
But like so much of our lives, food has become "disembodied" - the line from living animal to tasty dinner being almost invisible, save for walking down aisles of endless vacuum packs or driving past a few cows lowing in a field. This alienation between consumer and food source is a little less likely in our town, given the amount of farming and hunting families. But as any stroll through our grocery stores can tell you, our diet is just as globalized as anywhere else.
I will leave the topic of food security for another column. For now I will say that I was especially thankful for the opportunity to help create the food that was on my family's plates this past weekend, and I would encourage those who have never tried such an activity to do the same. It takes skill and patience to make one's own ham, turkey, roast, or venison from start to finish, but as with all things, the fruit of one's own labour always tastes better.
