"There’s no such place as ‘away.’ When we throw anything away, it must go somewhere." ~Annie Leonard
Ginny Neil
It is possible that in late summer you might have heard a few whines and whimpers as I stared down mountains of tomatoes and towering teepees of beans. And, My Own Farmer would probably confirm that I complained a bit when we were peeling that two bushels of apples or pulling the innards from 10 newly headless hens. After all, his own mother often processed over 200 quarts of fruits and vegetables each summer. By herself. Walking uphill both ways.
Ginny Neil
But, when my family gathers for a meal full of preserved farm and garden goodness and I take my first bite, I taste remembered sunshine. I taste the garden giggles of my grandson as he opens wide for a huge tomato. I taste the surprise spray of cold water hitting my back as Evie and I race to get away from the circling sprinkler. Each bite of a home-canned meal carries another precious memory from my mouth to my heart.
As Thanksgiving approaches, I can’t help but think about my abundance compared to the food available to the first English settlers. In early November, their storehouses would probably have been full of the same things I have in my cellar, but the squash and beans and corn would have been dried. The meats, unless a recent hunt was successful, would have been smoked.
While I don’t know much about how the early settlers prepared their dried and smoked foods, I am sure of one thing. Whatever wasn’t eaten would have been gathered up and saved for the next meal. Food was scarce. Hunger was always just a meal away.
Fast forward to today. The website, Feeding America, estimates that almost one third of the food bought in the United States ends up in landfills. I had to sit with that fact for a moment. When did we get to this place? Produce is thrown away more than any other food, with prepared foods taking a close second. And those in the know say that Thanksgiving can be one of the most wasteful seasons of all.
Some scientists estimate that a 16-pound turkey if you include the growing, processing and transit of that turkey to your table, releases the same amount of carbon dioxide as driving a car 180 miles. The sides which might include gravy, cranberry sauce, beans, corn, mashed potatoes, rolls and pie produce an equal amount combined. When that abundance ends up in landfills, the leftovers release methane, a potent greenhouse gas, as they decompose.
I won’t be giving up turkey and all the trimmings for Thanksgiving. The table wouldn’t look as festive with a big bowl of beans as our centerpiece. Plus, who wants to deal with a house full of guests gassier than the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade?
Ginny Neil
What I will do is treat my leftovers more like my Pilgrim ancestors would have. Not a single scrap or bite will be sent into the waste bin. Luckily, my chickens will be super excited to be eating the leftover scraps instead of becoming them, but I will do my part, too. I will freeze leftovers if we can’t finish them. I will boil the turkey carcass and make turkey noodle soup. I will fix less so we finish more. I will compost some scraps.
I want to be more planet-conscious as I prepare meals, and not just at Thanksgiving. From sourcing food closer to home, to using everything I buy, to purchasing only what is in season near me, there are ways I can ensure that I do less harm.
This Thanksgiving, as I lift my fork in gratitude for bounty, in addition to tasting the memory of green beans snapped on the porch with my husband, I will taste hope. Hope that my guests are learning something about stewardship at my table.
The next day, I will celebrate my progress with my favorite leftover of all time: turkey sandwiches on white bread slathered in mayo. If you stop by, I’ll share one with you. But, only if you raise your sandwich with me and solemnly promise to—as my Nana once told me and I hope my grandchildren will be telling their grandchildren—“Take what you want, but eat what you take.” All of us can make a difference one bite at a time.
The story above first appeared in our November / December 2024 issue. For more like it subscribe today or log in with your active BRC+ Membership. Thank you for your support!