Post-Covd19: Local Farmers, Oxfam, and The New Normal

I don’t like the new normal .

It’s 10:19 am, Sunday morning, May 3. 

I am waiting in a long line at the corner of Ivar and Sunset to get into the beautiful Hollywood Farmers Market. Behind me are at least 50 people, now standing where I was just a few minutes ago. We are all (but the guy in front of me) wearing a mask. 

The day is beautiful and sunny, the morning breeze is pleasant, the sky is blue; I am wearing a pretty dress and my white Converse. I feel the California summer approaching.

“I want to come to the market with you, mama”

Catherine cried, in Italian, as I was leaving the house. 

“As soon as the virus is gone, my love. I promise.”

I said to her.

She is two and a half, she knows about the virus, and she can’t wait for to be gone so she can go visit her nonni (grandparents) in Italy.

That’s the thing, this is the new normal: standing in long lines 6-feet apart from each other, masks, not seeing people’s faces, feeling estranged, feeling that all this is becoming just the way it is. The more accustomed we become to it, the more scared I get.

I have always wondered what normal meant; I remember telling my mom, when I was younger, that I wished I could be normal, like other people. I felt everything so much, I hurt, and I felt an outsider, a misfit. 

But what is, in fact, “normal”? Who are normal people? And “normal” according to whom?

Through the years I learned that the concept of normal is constantly changing; so will what was normal before Covid-19 ever become normal again?

*** 

Let me tell you why I come to the farmers market and wait in line 40 minutes, rather than ordering food on Instacart, or from Amazon: I come to the farmers market because I want to eat and cook fruits and vegetables that taste like the fruit and vegetables I grew up eating, in Italy, in the 1980s. I come to the farmers market and wait in line 40 minutes because, in order to enjoy such produce, I have to support and buy from those farmers and from small and local business that — on their ends — are working increasingly hard to make sure my childhood world will exist for the generations to come.

I am talking about the world of fresh rainbow chard that reminds me of my grandfather’s garden, of fruit that is perhaps ugly on the outside, fruit that big grocery stores don’t want, and that so many people don’t buy, but that hides the best flavor behind a rough skin.

***

The line is moving along, and I am now almost the corner of Morningside Dr. and Sunset Blvd., right across the street from the Arclight movie theater. 

I miss going to the movies. 

I miss a lot of things: my family and friends in Italy, the beach and the Pacific Ocean, I miss having my friends over for dinner, and cooking for them. 

I miss going out with Catherine, and hugging my friends. I miss shaking hands when I meet someone, and the kiss on the cheek, twice, like we Italians do. 

I miss it all so much that I must recognize that the world and food post-Covid19 will need extra awareness, extra care, extra effort, extra work.

We have to go back to move forward.

And I don’t mean going back to January, 2020 when Covid-19 was around, but we didn’t know it yet. I am talking about going back to caring about the food we bring to our table. I am talking about the awareness and the choice we must make when purchasing the ingredients for a cake, the increasingly less frequent meat — if you do eat meat (I stopped years ago and couldn’t feel better).

I am also talking about the effort we will have to put into purchasing only what has been raised and grown near us. For this has to become the norm, not the privilege or the good deed once a week.

How is my food packaged?

We have to seriously ask ourselves. Because food doesn’t need plastic around it. 

I know that I am lucky to live in California, where the weather allows for beautiful farmers markets all year long; I know that I am lucky to have the financial blessing to buy mindfully and sustainably, but I also know that to start caring about food doesn’t require money; it requires small steps, small choices (not always the most convenient, I admit), and an open mind. Most importantly, however, it ultimately requires governments to take responsibility and make the choice of doing what we all know is right. 

It is no secret that those most harshly affected by this pandemic are the poor, those that didn’t have much to begin with before the virus, and those with pre-conditions that, for most part, are related to what we eat, to how we eat, and to why we eat. The problem must be tackled at its root: healthy, sustainable food must be a right for every human being. 

That’s why I am happy and proud to announce my partnership with Oxfam America, because their work, over the years, to make this change happen has been inspiring.

Just look at their five principles for shopping and eating sustainably, from their “Eat For Good” program:

• Save food/use leftovers
• Shop Seasonal
• Eat Less Meat
• Support Farmers & Food Producers
• Cook Smart/Use less water and energy

Isn’t this what we do every Monday on Instagram to Table? Isn’t this what we discover, learn about, and grow in the beautiful community we have created? What we plant together on Instagram and on this website we will harvest in our world, one of these days. If we join forces, we are stronger. 

If you say I am a dreamer I’ll tell you that you’re right.

“Impossible” dreams and hard work have given me the life I have today, and I intend to keep dreaming and working hard for a new normal that works for everyone.

Because whether I like it or not, normal will change over and over again.

***

To make a donation to Oxfam America’s Covid-19 relief fund click here 

To join the community of Instagram to Table follow me on Instagram @alicecarbonetench

Thank you, Abbey and Valerie, for your generosity, your creativity, your skills, your time and your effort in building this new website. I could have never done without you.