by Jennifer Welch
“The day is coming when a single carrot, freshly
observed, will set off a revolution.” – Paul Cezanne
How many times has a single head of lettuce changed your life?
I received a call saying that my tank was ready for pickup – the one that I take to the local goat dairy every week to collect over 150 gallons of whey to feed to my pigs. But this time, they also wanted to know if I was interested in some lettuce that a local greenhouse was giving away as animal fodder. Given that pigs will eat nearly anything I said yes, I would take it. And before long I received another call, this time from the owner of the greenhouse, about picking up the lettuce for the pigs. Score. Free food for my little herd of garbage disposals.
When I arrived at the greenhouse with my three kids, we were greeted by a small pack of dogs and a sea of green edibles. The kale were so tall that they looked like miniature trees from the Cretaceous period. The herbs were as fragrant as the summer day is long, and the hydroponic lettuce was shockingly beautiful. The owners explained that the lettuce needed to be harvested to clear space for the next growing cycle and that they had neither the manpower nor the market to sell it to consumers. To be honest, I paid very little attention to the lettuce as it was being bagged and instead struck up a conversation with the owners about the state of our local food production.
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As we talked, my kids and I were given a tour of the greenhouses. Tomato plants towered over us as we spoke, even though the stems were wrapped several times around the base of the rows. Cucumbers, peppers and flowers greeted us as well. It broke my heart to hear of this farmer’s struggles in our local economy. Between an inability to reach the consistency of front-range markets and the red tape surrounding our statewide farm-to-school initiative, this established producer was facing an uphill battle. I headed north up the valley with my bags of freshly harvested lettuce, feeling somewhat morose.
When I arrived home, I began to unpack the lettuce from the bags in the back of my truck. As I pulled out each head, my eyes grew bigger and bigger, my heart more and more full. Each head was beautiful. Life changing. Eye opening. Lettuce. I immediately plopped one into a bowl, dressed it with olive oil and fresh lemon juice, and ate the entire thing, core and all. This single butterhead lettuce revolutionized the way I eat salad. No more fancy dressings. No more overwhelming toppings or adornments. No more bruising the leaves by chopping or hand shredding. Just pure, nearly naked lettuce. Hydroponically grown in my favorite valley on earth. A simple craft mastered by a single person doing what he knows and loves. No labels. No guilt trips. No attempts at grandeur. Just a single head of lettuce. Perfection in every crunchy bite.
I am taking this head of lettuce and running with it. I have plans for my farm and other farms like it: small, responsible, local. But that is for another discussion at another time. My plans will be revealed soon enough, but right now I want to know what your plans are. How many times has a single head of lettuce changed your life? Open yourself to the possibility that food need not be pretentious or overly complicated to achieve perfection. Open yourself to the possibility that dirt tablecloths can be just as magnificent as linens or silks. Try a piece of lettuce, a slice of carrot, a chunk of radish as it sits in a field. Not just to taste it, but to experience it. Feel it in your bones, in your blood, in your heart. This is the only way these small, local farms will have a chance to survive: to let them start a revolution within you.
Jen Welch lives and writes in the Upper Arkansas River Valley, and she is working on the beginnings of her very own food revolution …
