A few weekends ago was the inaugural FAH Field Trip. Ashe, my fiancé, Kate & James, our friends, and I ventured south to Bowral for a honey tasting.

Sourcing a good local honey seems like a no-brainer in my local swap journey. Salt was a fascinating rabbit hole. I thought honey could be an adventure!

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When I think about honey, it seems like an obvious choice to buy locally. Regularly touted for its benefits with seasonal allergies, local honey is another one of those ingredients you can find pretty much everywhere.

Turns out, honeybees live everywhere except in Antarctica and deserts. They do have their limits when it comes to extreme environments, both hot and cold. Given NSW is temperate, I knew I would have countless options.

So, the investigation began…

Honeybee 101

While hotly debated, the scientific consensus is that honeybees (Apis mellifera) originated from South and Southeast Asia, migration and human colonization spread them across the world.

In the 19th century, European colonizers introduced honeybees to Australia. The story goes that Captain Wallace, aboard the Isabella, brought seven hives of honeybees from Cork, Ireland to Sydney. Apparently, it did not take long for the bees to flee their hives and set out into the lush flowering eucalyptus forests. I don’t blame them after months at sea! (source)

Australia has over 2,000 native bee species, including the adorable blue-banded bee that had me thinking I was hallucinating in my garden last year since it looks exactly like a honeybee but has neon blue stripes. (source)

Aboriginal people have been collecting honey known as sugarbags for thousands of years from the native bee populations. However, these bees produce honey at a much lower volume, so most modern commercial operations rely on the introduced Apis mellifera. This is the honey we buy in the grocery store.

Not all honey is equal

After chatting with some beekeeping friends, I discovered that the “local” honey I typically buy at the grocery store (like the Beechworth honey I used in my granola recipe) may not be quite as great as I imagined.

Honey naturally contains small amounts of enzymes and other health benefitting compounds, but post collection processing can dramatically affect the structure of these. And while honey is still honey, not all jars are produced in the same way.

Grocery store honey is optimized for a long shelf life whereas raw honey preserves the natural compounds created by bees. Most grocery store honeys undergo intense heat pasteurization and filtration. This is so that the honey won’t crystallize on store shelves and the ultra filtration creates a clear product that will remain a liquid indefinitely. This unfortunately removes a lot of the natural health benefits.

So, I decided that my best bet was to find local, raw honey that has had zero or minimal processing. Then came the quandry on how locally I should look given I live in a city…

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Rooftop bees

Sydney has some amazing urban honey initiatives, including rooftop hives right in the CBD. One day last month, Ashe came home with a little jar of honey and some beeswax candles from the hives on top of his office building.

John Prince founded Rooftop Bees in 2019 with the goal of bridging corporations and nature through bees. Today, the organization manages hives for more than 50 organizations throughout Australia.

I considered marching up to the rooftops of the CBD, which would be the absolute closest honey source. But, I wanted to get my boots in the mud. So, our first field trip took us just over an hour south of home.

A flight of honey flavors

Bowral Honey Farm is located on Retford Park, with sprawling fields dotted with hives. Bianca and Hamish, the beekeepers, were a wealth of knowledge. Before the rain set in, we had a brief tour of the hives and learned about the life of bees.

Once the downpour began, we scurried inside for a honey flight tasting paired with tea and bread. It was a real treat to scoop up spoonfuls of honey and drizzle it over our tongues, toast, and tea.

I (naively) discovered that grocery store honey tastes generically sweet, whereas raw honey has a complex flavor profile. The honey we tasted told a story about the landscape surrounding the various hives.

Bees can only fly about 2km away so they have a 4km radius around their hive from which they forage. Different flowering plants produce different nectars, and those differences find their way into the honey.

I had no idea just how many flavors and varieties there were to explore. Some honeys are more floral, while others are earthy or woody. Color, texture, and sweetness varied too.

I was surprised to find that I strongly disliked some, maybe my palate is unevolved… While others, like the Blackberry one, came home with us.

I do not think every jar of honey needs to come with a full scientific report. But I do think there is value in knowing more about the people and landscapes behind the food we eat.

Buying local is about more than reducing food miles. It is an opportunity to build relationships with producers, ask informed questions, and understand what we are supporting with our money.

At the end of this adventure, I was pretty stoked to walk away with some beekeeping friends and delicious honey! I’d say the first FAH field trip was a sweet success ◡̈

These plant profiles take a closer look at what’s growing in my garden. Fun facts, growing tips, what makes each plant happy and how I bring it from the garden to my pantry (recipes below).

First up is Basil (Ocimum basilicum).

This plant profile was specially requested by the self-proclaimed Austin Queen of Basil, my sister, Kristy.

When I was a child, I carried around a notebook that I filled with Fun Facts. I can recall many dinners when I subjected my family to listening to an endless stream of these so-called fun facts.

I would start each fact with a dragged out “Did You Knowwww…”

So… did you know that basil is actually a member of the mint family? And that the word basil comes from the Greek basilikón, meaning “royal” or “of the king”?

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Plant profile

Whenever I am thinking about growing something at Ocean Street Garden, I ask a these questions. Then I decide whether my garden and I can give the plant what it needs.

Aligned with permaculture values, I am looking to create a harmonious ecosystem not just pursue the success of a few plants I like eating. Here is what I ask:

When should I plant it?

Basil likes it hot. It is a warm-season plant and doesn’t particularly enjoy cold weather. Here in Sydney, that means I wait until the weather has consistently warmed up before planting it outside. Right now, the seedlings are tucked away in the greenhouse.

Who are Basil’s friends? Aka, what should you plant together?

Tomatoes, peppers, marigolds and carrots are all good companions. This year I am growing basil, tomatoes and marigolds together.

Who does Basil not get along with? Aka, what should you avoid planting nearby?

Basil is actually quite friendly. There aren’t many plants it needs to be kept away from.

Fennel is the one I would avoid pairing it with. It is considered allelopathic, meaning it can release chemicals that affect the growth of neighboring plants. Fennel is a bit of a garden loner.

How much water does Basil prefer?

Basil likes consistently moist soil, particularly during hot weather. It doesn’t want to soak in water, but letting it completely dry out can cause it to wilt quickly.

What about sunlight?

Full sun.

If basil can thrive in Sydney summers and survive the Texas heat, it clearly likes some UV.

How does it like to be harvested?

The more you cut it, the more it grows. My favorite type of plant!

The trick is to avoid picking individual leaves. Instead, use clean scissors to cut just above a pair of leaves. The plant will branch from that point, giving you two new stems instead of one.

Keep doing this throughout the season and you will end up with a much bushier plant rather than one that shoots straight up toward the sun.

What should I do at the end of the season?

Basil is generally grown as an annual, so eventually the plant will reach the end of its life.

When autumn is on the horizon, I let the basil flower. Then allow these flowers to dry out and turn brown on the plant. The basil leaves themselves start tasting a bit bitter when this happens so get your last harvest in before this point.

Once the flowers are brown and dry, cut them off and place them in a brown paper bag. Give it a good shake and you’ll be left with a bag full of seeds to plant next year!

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Garden to pantry

In peak summer, basil is prolific. The more you cut it, the more it grows, and sometimes the supply feels never ending.

Good thing there are endless uses for it.

Here are three of my favorite ways to preserve basil so you can keep using your summer harvest throughout the winter.

Pesto

A classic. Except I am allergic to pine nuts, so I’ve tried a few different versions until I found one I actually like.

Ingredients

• 2 cups fresh basil leaves (packed down)

• ½ cup extra virgin olive oil

• 1 lemon

• 2-3 garlic cloves

• ½ cup pumpkin or sunflower seeds

• Salt

• Pepper

• 3 T grated Parmesan (optional)

Instructions

1. Blend all ingredients in a food processor. Add salt and pepper to taste.

2. I tend to freeze the extra pesto since this makes a big batch.

Basil Salt

This one is a new fav. It makes dishes feel fancy. If you are sick of pesto, it’s a great way to use up heaps of basil and store it.

Best for garnishing and extra fun as a cocktail rim.

Ingredients

• ½ cup fresh basil leaves

• ½ cup coarse salt

Instructions

1. Add the basil and salt to a food processor.

2. Pulse until the basil is finely chopped and evenly mixed through the salt.

3. Spread onto a baking sheet, pop it in the oven on low for a few hours and let it dry completely.

4. Store in an airtight jar.

Frozen Basil Cubes

This one is fabulous for winter cooking.

Ingredients

• Basil leaves

• Olive oil (or similar)

Instructions

1. Roughly chop the basil and divide it between flexible ice cube trays.

2. Fill each cube with olive oil, then freeze.

3. When you’re ready to use it, pop a cube straight into a pan and let it melt.

4. Add to pasta, sauces, soups, or anything else that could use a little basil.

Basil Infused Oil

This summer, I am also going to try out ’s Herb Oil.

Share From Around Here

Of all the pantry staples making their way to my shelves, one bothered me the most: salt.

It is the one ingredient I use every single day without fail, it has traveled the farthest and it absolutely does not need to… given that I live fifteen minutes from the ocean (the world’s largest salt reservoir).

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How did this happen?

Salt feels like a fitting first Local Pantry topic because my feeds are inundated with that little green Maldon salt box. Recipe reels, cooking shows, restaurant tables… Maldon salt is seemingly everywhere.

Was I influenced? Almost certainly.

And while it is very lovely salt, I certainly do not need a kitchen staple to come from 16,950km (10,530mi) away.

I also happened to have Mark Kurlansky’s Salt: A World History sitting on my bookshelf. A viral video from Wyatt Derman about the book finally prompted me to move it to the top of my reading list.

Kurlansky puts the history of salt into perfect perspective:

“Salt is so common, so easy to obtain, and so inexpensive that we have forgotten that from the beginning of civilization until about 100 years ago, salt was one of the most sought-after commodities in human history.”

Salt’s commonality has made it easy to take for granted. Its accessibility has also made it easy to forget where it actually comes from. Which, in my case, was two oceans away.

Unlike other spices, this is one of those we’ve got it at home moments.

Basically nowhere on earth lacks a salt source. There are geological salt deposits across every continent, and then, of course, there is the ocean covering the majority of the planet. And it really is as simple as evaporating salty water and scooping up the crystalline deposits.

I know because I’ve seen it happen.

It’s actually quite simple.

In 2022, while living in Fiji, I spent some time in Viani Bay, a corner of paradise tucked away near the Rainbow Reef.

Jone and Marina built their own little dive operation there from the ground up. They constructed cottages from palm trees, started a garden to feed their guests, farmed seaweed and created a coral nursery. It was simple, beautiful living that they created almost entirely from the resources around them.

Jone also had a side business: Fiji Salt. The process was brilliantly simple.

He would collect seawater from Viani Bay, bring it back to the little shed he built and pour it into a large metal trough over a steady fire. Eventually, all that remained was salt.

Sometimes he packaged it just as it was. Other times he added local flavors like cumquat juice, bush peppers or even a splash of Shiraz wine.

My brief time in Viani Bay really changed the way I thought about daily life. Little kids arrived at school by boat. Two dive enthusiast built their dream from the ground up. And seawater from the bay could become something as essential as the salt sitting on our dinner table.

Between my granola revelations, Kurlansky’s book and memories from Viani, I figured there must be a simpler solution to my salt source. Because long global supply chains were no longer working for me.

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My local swap: Murray River Salt

As much as I’d love something similar to Jone’s salt… I can’t exactly stroll down to Bondi Beach, collect some seawater and start evaporating it in my backyard. But I did stumble upon something pretty cool.

The Murray-Darling Basin, one of Australia’s most significant river systems, has a serious salinity problem. Saline groundwater can make its way into the river system, increasing salt levels and threatening both agriculture and local ecosystems.

Australia has spent decades trying to manage this problem, including through the Salt Interception Scheme designed to stop saline groundwater from seeping into the river.

Enter Murray River Salt.

They use the mineralized brine intercepted by one of these salinity-management systems near the Murray River. Instead of allowing the saline groundwater to make its way into the river, it is pumped into the Mourquong Salt Mitigation Basin, where the water is gradually evaporated.

The salt that remains is harvested and turned into those delicate pink flakes that are now sitting in my pantry!

Knowing that my salt now comes from a process designed to manage an environmental problem feels like a pretty fabulous improvement on a little green box from Essex.

What I look for when making local swaps

I highly value producers who are specific about their process.

Where does it come from? How is it made or grown? Who actually produces it? Where is it packaged?

The more I know about an ingredient’s journey, the more comfortable I feel putting it in my pantry.

And I think that’s ultimately what this whole experiment is about. Not everything has to come from around the corner. Sometimes there simply isn’t a local alternative, and in those cases, you get to decide if and how often you buy it. And sometimes the thing that seems “local” turns out to have traveled much farther than expected.

But salt? I knew I could do better.

So I’ll leave you with this: Check the back of your salt packaging. Is it traveling across the sea (or seas) to find its place in your kitchen?

Maybe there’s a better option just down the road.

1. Ocean Street Garden – Last week’s article introduced my apartment deck garden. These articles will feature plant profiles, permaculture principles and seasonal garden updates.

2. Local Pantry — These articles focus on sourcing the ingredients I cannot grow or produce myself. I will be seeking our farmers, producers and growers near me who are doing things thoughtfully.

3. From Scratch — A glimpse into my kitchen and the recipes that tie it all together. We are kicking this off today with my first recipe: granola!

For my first From Scratch recipe, I wanted to start with something simple and easy. I make this granola almost every week and it uses pantry staples.

It should have been straightforward: oats, seeds, a drizzle of honey, a handful of spices and into the oven it goes. Raw ingredients, single sources. Spoiler alert… it was not.

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What the heck

I grabbed my laptop then rummaged through the pantry gathering the ingredients thinking this would take an hour or so. Several hours later, I am writing this fuming.

Since I cannot eat most pre-made granolas due to my nut allergy, I always felt very cute and wholesome making my own. It’s healthier than the packaged preservative-filled stuff, has a smaller footprint and contains no ingredients I can’t pronounce. It seemed like the obvious better choice.

I just never really thought to ask where my “better” ingredients came from. Today unveiled a frustrating truth.

The labels told me almost nothing about my ingredient sources. Packaged here, grown somewhere, origin undisclosed. And when I did manage to pin something down, the answer was humbling.

I would never describe myself as a fancy chef who imports ingredients from around the globe. Yet the granola regularly I make, contains ten ingredients from approximately nine different countries. I say approximately because for most of them I could not actually pinpoint a true source.

The one ingredient I could pin down with full certainty was my salt. Which turned out to be the most embarrassing answer of all: I live fifteen minutes from the ocean, the world’s largest salt source and yet I am eating salt from the other side of the world.

The label labyrinth

The average person goes to the grocery store and makes hundreds of small decisions during their trip. This one says organic, this one says locally grown, this one is on sale, this one looks nicer, this one is cheaper. On and on until the cart is full. Nowhere in that process do we truly learn where our food is from, how it was grown or by whom.

Part of what made this deep dive so maddening wasn’t just that the information was hard to find. It was that the packaging provided useless answers we are meant to be satisfied with. Australia has a Country of Origin labelling system. The US has the COOL (Country of Origin Labeling) law. I consider both countries home and was initially excited about these systems. Unfortunately, both have massive gaps.

In theory, they are systems designed to help consumers make more informed decisions. Which is really awesome. In practice, though, I stood in the grocery store aisle holding packets that said things like “Made in Australia” which can legally describe a product whose ingredients came entirely from somewhere else. And “Packaged in Australia from imported sources” which tells you nothing about where those sources actually are.

And when a country of origin does appear, it is not always meaningful. Knowing my pumpkin seeds came from China tells me nothing about the farm, the general region or how they were grown. It is actually somewhat useless when the country is that large.

When you don’t know where your food is coming from, you are less likely to ask whether it should have come from somewhere closer. We have somehow created an extremely complicated system that leaves the consumer clueless.

You can read more about the Country of Origin labelling systems here: Australia / US

So, where is my granola from?

After many google searches, I determined that the average ingredient in this recipe has traveled roughly 9,200km (5,700mi) to reach my kitchen in Sydney.

The most local ingredient is my honey. Although, I am still not sure where the beehives are actually located in Australia. While the farthest ingredient is my salt from the Maldon Coast, UK.

Here is a breakdown of the ingredients in relation to my kitchen:

Australia grown

Honey — 530km (330mi) — Jodie and Steven, Beechworth Honey

• The original hives were in Beechworth, Victoria. Since they scaled up their company, the honey now comes from multiple undisclosed locations throughout Australia.

Rolled oats — 3,200km (2,000mi) — Coles Simply Rolled Oats

• The label just says Australia grown. From a little research on where oats are grown, I narrowed it to NSW, Western Australia or Victoria. The southwestern Wheatbelt in WA is the biggest oat producer, so I measured the approx distance to there.

Somewhat neighboring countries

Shredded coconut — ?? — McKenzie’s

• Philippines, Indonesia or Sri Lanka. Packaged in Australia. Exact origin undisclosed. I have no idea how to narrow it down from here.

Vanilla extract — ?? — Queen

• Madagascar, Papua New Guinea, Comoros or Tonga. Once again, no indication which of these countries is the most likely source.

Coconut oil — 8,700km (5,405mi) — Chef’s Choice

• Sri Lanka. No idea what region of the country.

Pumpkin seeds — 9,000km (5,600mi) — Harris Farm

• Likely the Xinjiang region of China based on pumpkin export records. I have no clue who the producer is.

Literally the other side of the world

Ground cinnamon — 10,600km (6,590mi) — MasterFoods

• Madagascar. From an unnamed source.

Chia seeds — est. 12,900km (8,000mi)— Chef’s Choice

• Mexico or Paraguay, based on other stockists of the same product. The label says only “imported, packed in Australia.”

Maple syrup — 16,200km (10,070mi) — Cole’s Canadian Maple Syrup

• Chaudière-Appalaches region of Canada. An imported ingredient that was actually somewhat transparent about its source.

Salt — 16,950km (10,530mi) — Steve Osborne, Maldon

• Maldon, England. The farthest sourced ingredient and the only one with a true pinpointed origin.

The fascinating reality

Apparently, I have been quietly operating as a global importer without ever consciously making that choice. I would never describe myself as someone who sources ingredients from nine countries for one recipe. But that is precisely what I am doing every time I make this granola. I was not aware of it until I sat down and properly looked. That gap between perception and reality is part of what makes this whole experiment so fascinating to me.

Sydney is one of the most culinarily diverse cities in the world. The access to cuisine and ingredients from every corner of the globe is genuinely extraordinary. But there is a difference between that diversity being a deliberate choice and it simply being the invisible default. Vanilla from Madagascar, maple syrup from Canada, chia seeds from Paraguay… these are not decisions I intentionally made. They are decisions that were made for me by a supply chain I rarely questioned.

Which brings me to a question I’ve become fixated on: should imported ingredients be a delicacy instead of a commonality? Are there alternative options closer to home?

Some ingredients in this recipe may simply always come from abroad. Oats and honey are achievable locally, but maple syrup probably isn’t. That leaves a choice: find a local alternative, use it less often and more intentionally or accept it as one of the imports genuinely worth keeping. I do not see myself operating by hard rules but instead constantly balancing finding the “better” option. I think the distance an ingredient travels should factor into how often and how casually I reach for it.

It all starts with awareness. I am actually shocked that this simple recipe came from all over the world. Over the coming weeks, I will work through this recipe ingredient by ingredient searching for better alternatives, starting with salt next week.

The goal is not a perfect local granola. The goal is to understand what is actually possible, find the producers who are doing things well and make more conscious choices about what earns a permanent place in my pantry.

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My weekly granola recipe

Despite all of the above, I love my granola! I eat it most mornings with yogurt and fresh fruit. When it’s baking in the oven, the whole house smells absolutely incredible. I am not giving up on it. I am just going to be more thoughtful about what goes into it.

** This is one of those measure with your heart type recipes but I added guiding values to give a sense. I also interchange the seeds and spices depending on the time of year. I hope you love it as much as I do!

Ingredients

3 cups rolled oats

2T shredded coconut

¼ t salt (just a sprinkle)

2t cinnamon (sometimes a dash of nutmeg or cloves)

1 cup pumpkin seeds (other seeds and dried fruit are good too)

2T chia seeds

⅔ cup maple syrup or honey

⅓ cup melted coconut oil

1t vanilla extract

Instructions

1. Pre-heat oven to 300˚F (150˚C)

2. In a large bowl, mix together oats, spices, shredded coconut, seeds/dried fruit and salt.

3. Mix in maple syrup/honey, melted coconut oil and vanilla extract. Keep mixing until all ingredients are combined.

4. Transfer granola mixture to a baking sheet lined with parchment paper and press into an even layer. Optional: drizzle honey over the top.

5. Bake for 20 minutes or until the edges are slightly golden brown.

6. Let the granola cool completely before breaking apart. Once totally cooled, break it into pieces and transfer into an airtight container.

My garden is the natural starting point of this local eating experiment. It is as local as a food source gets.

Since I am seeking out ingredients that prioritize ecological harmony and the shortest journey from field to plate, Ocean Street Garden will be the anchor of my pantry. The easiest way to know what goes into your food and how it is grown is to grow it yourself.

Sadly, no soil

Ocean Street Garden is a little courtyard out the back of our two story townhouse apartment. It is protected from the wind, sunny and has a flowering tree in the corner that offers shade on the hot summer days.

It is big enough to host dinners at a long table or gather around a bbq with friends. We are incredibly lucky to have a space like this in the city and it’s the reason we keep extending our lease. However, I curse the designer who decided to make the entire yard deck. Not only is there no sliver of soil to be seen, but they chose the world’s worst timber that is regularly breaking.

All of this means that my gardening adventures are limited to what I can grow in a pot. Lesson learned when I attempted to grow giant sunflowers and they only grew a meager 2 feet tall… apparently their roots need approximately 3 to 6 feet to grow!

So, I have lined the courtyard with a perimeter of pots all positioned for varying sunlight conditions. Last year, I assembled two small raised beds which have been a game changer. They allow for just enough space to companion plant a collection of goodies.

I also have a mini greenhouse where I start my seeds. Not only is it warm and cozy inside the clear walls but it’s a safe haven from the resident possum (my nemesis).

Given my limited space, I have to be a bit ruthless on what I choose to grow.

Picking what to plant

My partner, Ashe, says I collect seed packets like Pokémon cards, so it has taken a tremendous amount of self control to only buy the things I know can thrive in my area and I plan to regularly harvest. Of course, I have fun with a random crop every once in a while. But this year, I am locking in on growing the things I plan to regularly use in my kitchen.

I’ve decided that the number 1 rule in gardening (if there actually were any rules) is to grow the things you eat the most. This is a lesson I have already learned in my three years of gardening. There is no point in attempting to grow fancy herbs if you don’t eat them… looking at you, pineapple sage…

After a rummage through the fridge and pantry, I decided tomatoes are a priority this year. Quickly followed by herbs like cilantro, parsley, mint and oregano because they are fairly easy and a kitchen staple. Then a few summer veggies that I love to cook with such as carrots, beans and cucumbers.

Since it is predicted to be a Super El Niño this year (aka extra dry hot summer), I am planting everything a bit earlier this spring than normal. While roasty toasty beach days are always glorious, the impending heat is a bit daunting and seemingly already on its way.

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What’s already growing?

Since I was away for most of the winter, I did not have a chance to plant any spring blooming annuals. Instead, I had my hardy perennials carrying the load.

This is what survived winter without me:

• Rosemary

• Lavender

• Mint

• Pineapple sage (recipe recommendations highly welcomed!)

• Strawberry (runners were left in the ground over winter, let’s see if they fruit)

• Dahlias (expected to re-emerge soon)

What’s being planted this spring?

I already had little Cilantro (Coriander), Parsley and Oregano sprouts so they each went into their own pots. Then, last Sunday, I spent the day scrubbing my pots clean and filling them with seed starting soil and compost. I then went about sprinkling seeds and planning what will grow where.

Here is what’s currently sprouting in my mini greenhouse:

• Basil (from seeds I saved last year!)

• Beans

• Cucumber

• Roma tomato

• Tigerella tomato

• Red russian tomato

• Marigolds

I am also a glutton for flowers, so in a week or two I’ll be sprinkling these seeds:

• Carnations

• California poppies (makes me think of home!)

• Daisies

• Dwarf sunflowers

• White dill

Besides the basil seeds which I saved from last year, all of my seeds are from Veggie & Flower Garden Seeds. This Tasmania based company was founded by a woman named Bec. Her seeds are fabulous and I love supporting an Aussie-based, woman-run business.

I am learning as I am growing and I plan to share that knowledge in these articles along with the lessons I was taught in my permaculture course. Plant profiles and permaculture lessons are on the way!

In the meantime, I am off to sink my hands in the soil and come up with a water management plan for the extra toasty summer we are anticipating.

Growing up with food allergies, I’m well accustomed to reading ingredient lists.

For most of my life, I’ve needed to know what is in my food. But lately, I’ve become fixated on a different question: where is my food coming from?

There’s something nostalgic about the idea of asking a neighbor for a cup of sugar, an extra egg or a handful of herbs. Waiting for the milk man to stop by your front door. Or wandering down the road to collect your produce from a farm stall. It conjures up a time when food was, quite literally, grown closer to home.

Today, our food system is so complex and decentralized that we regularly eat three meals a day without having any idea where the ingredients came from, who grew them or how they were grown.

We might wonder about the long list of ingredients in a chicken nugget. But even if you eat a relatively whole-food diet, there are plenty of ingredients in my pantry that befuddle me when I take a moment to think about them.

For instance… What even is baking powder? I need it for my pancakes but could not even guess what it’s made of.

And then there are the questions that seem almost absurd when you stop to think about them.

Why might a food be grown near me, shipped somewhere else to be processed and packaged and then shipped back to a grocery store near me? The answer of course is money. But I refuse to accept that this outrageously complex system we have built is truly the answer.

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Digging deeper

Studying Environmental Science gave me the vocabulary for what I was seeing, but it didn’t make the question or answers any less uncomfortable.

Over the past year, I’ve dug deeper (literally), receiving a Permaculture Design Certificate to learn more about the relationships between soil, plants, animals, people and the systems that connect them.

I’ve learned how to read an ecosystem and understand how we can produce our food in harmony with it instead of exploiting it.

Industrial agriculture has given us extraordinary abundance and convenience, but it has also come with absurd environmental costs. Synthetic fertilisers, pesticides, monocultures, soil degradation and long-distance supply chains have fundamentally changed our relationship with food, the land that produces it and our community.

The connectivity of the world is astounding and has connected incredible cuisine. Vanilla from Madagascar. Chocolate from West Africa. Bananas from the tropics. However, the commonality of ingredients across the world has warped our perception of what should naturally be accessible in a given location at a certain time of year.

Our modern system is not great for the planet. Not great for our health. Not great for anyone.

I can’t help but feeling that the answer has something to do with reconnecting with our local farmers. So, my big question is: how local can our diet be?

How hard is it to truly eat seasonally? Can I make my favorite recipes with ingredients from within 10km of where I live? 50kms? 100kms? How much of the food around me is grown in a regenerative way? Do I have to sacrifice my diet to make this a reality?

The experiment

This blog is dedicated to finding these answers. It’s an experiment of sorts which will include me tending a kitchen garden and applying permaculture principles and seeking out the people near me who are growing regenerative food (aka the process of growing also feeds the soil, supports biodiversity and strengthens the ecosystems around it).

I plan to see how many recipes I can make from locally sourced ingredients, share my permaculture learnings, document what I’m growing in my little garden and highlight the growers I meet along the way.

There is plenty to be said about what went wrong with our food system. Understanding how we got here matters. And inevitably, some of that history will make its way onto these pages.

But I don’t want this to be another blog about everything that is broken. There is enough doom and gloom already.

Instead, I want to look for the solutions.

So, that’s what this Substack is all about. Finding good sources for the ingredients in my pantry. Whether that be in my own garden, down the road or from around here.