There are reasons that supermarket apples taste so barren in comparison. Our national supermarket chains are antithetical to local food. They stock and sell the products of the global food system, which have been adapted not to suit local climates, local soils, and local culinary preferences, but the needs and wants of the system: transportability, perfect appearance, standardization, and efficiency. Taste is subordinate to these industrial qualities, as too is nutritional value. Hence when we, the consumers, bite into a supermarket apple, we are left with a weak and watery taste in our mouths rather than the rich and juicy flavors our forefathers experienced.
In short, the global corporations that produce and sell supermarket foods are so powerful, profitable, and popular that local heirloom foods scarcely stand a chance within that system. Apples, like tomatoes and cheeses and almost every other kind of local food, are neglected and outcompeted, with tragic results. Every year, many acres of traditional orchards are grubbed up as their owners succumb to the financial pressures of the modern food system, and their local varieties become scarce or lost altogether. With each variety that is lost, a unique taste becomes extinct, never to be enjoyed again.
The solutions offered are not at all surprising: grow more local food in your backyard if and when you can, and buy from small, local farms and businesses if and when you can.
Of course, few of us can afford to shop exclusively at the local farmers market or farm shop, and the last thing I want to do is to burden the conscience of anyone living paycheck to paycheck. No one should feel guilty for not buying organic or local, when doing so would make it impossible to feed himself and his family.
I am convinced, however, that many more of us could afford to consume in a more local and ethical manner if we sat down and thought about it. We don’t realize how little we spend on food as citizens of western nations and how anomalous this state of affairs is in the course of human history. If we made other budgetary sacrifices — fewer consumer goods, fewer ultra-processed foods, fewer streaming subscriptions — and instead bought more local good food, we would be doing our local places good at the same time as doing good to our bodies. Which, when you think about it, is not that much of a sacrifice after all.
Moreover, for those of us who are able to regularly and consistently shop local, who can afford to buy what is delicious and of superior quality: we ought not to enjoy these goods by ourselves. All of us are members of local communities, whether big or small. Thus, there exists ample opportunity for us to share this goodness convivially around the table with others. What better feast to offer your neighbors and friends than a table laden with local delicacies and local produce, all rich with flavor and quality, and prepared with love? We are feasting to the health of our place, the health of our communities, and the health of our bodies. I can think of few things more delightful than this — especially when there is an apple crumble for dessert.
Meghan and I are always looking for ways to improve, but it’s nice to affirm that we’re basically doing a lot of what we can right now. Not much of the growing — a cherry tomato plant for spur-of-the-moment plunder is about it — but the insistent and self-limiting act of buying from small, local farms and businesses. I can confirm the obvious: that it’s much more expensive; but, prices being what they are, it’s not as much more as you’d think, and sometimes actually cheaper. And that self-limiting part is important; it’s good for your purse, your health, and your soul — and beyond:
When we find ways to preserve and value (and enjoy) local foods, the truth is that the fruit we gather comes in many forms beyond plums and meat and apples. Many ways of supporting local food also create neighborly ties and foster goodwill and gathering spaces for a local community. These are the things that help not just local economies, but local cultures thrive. We share greater conviviality, learn more about each other’s backgrounds and struggles, and put our time and money where our mouths are, showing that we truly value the landscape and the people around us.