Farm-to-table spirituality; a simple and beautiful way to live.

Slow down; you move too fast, got to make the morning last.

👋 Hi, my name is Cass, and I am a recovering fast food addict and adrenaline junkie. A relentlessly paced life once controlled me, caught on the Instagram and social media treadmill, running from one thing to the next, finding myself consumed by the complex and complicated.

Everyone says, "Hi, Cass."

(And before you cast too many stones, feel free to introduce yourself in the comments below with your vices and weaknesses. Confess your sins one to another 😉)

Until recently, we often found ourselves racing from one thing to the next, particularly on Sundays. We would usually grab breakfast from Mcdonald's on our way to church to make it on time for rehearsals. We'd drop past the "chicken shop" on the way home for lunch and then, defeated by the clock, pull into the drive-through of McDonald's again on Sunday night to down a little burger at the day's end before collapsing into bed. Then I'd post about everything on social media. After that, spent and exhausted and unprepared for the new week, I'd fall asleep knowing I would do it all again the following Sunday.

Does any of that sound familiar? Or is it just me?

My friend Chris is a mad foodie. He's one of "those" people who watch Chef's Table on Netflix and then make reservations at the restaurant in the show. He knows what "umami" or "sous vide" mean. And not only that, but he uses them in casual conversation. And, of course, he's the one to ask where the latest Noma pop-up will be and regularly partakes in "degustation" menus. 

He's the one who goes to sensory restaurants where you eat the most fabulous food in the dark while blindfolded for extra sensory perception. And he knows where that little secret spot is everyone wants to go to but can't get in. 

And when he describes what he's eaten, I have to make sure there isn't any drool escaping from my open mouth because he makes it all sound so tasty.

So, of course, it was Chris who told me about Blue Hills at Stone Barns in NYC, run by chef Dan Barber. It's a high-end farm-to-table restaurant serving tasting menus in a refurbished barn on gorgeous grounds.

A while back, I named our home "The Farm." 

It's not a farm. It's not high-end, does not serve tasting menus, has not been refurbished, and incidentally, it has no barn! (Although I long for one and have a Pinterest board with too many references.) We don't "farm" anything, and there are no animals, although we once kept bees... until they all flew away. My veggie patch is overgrown, and while sometimes, I can manage a decent crop of roses, the rabbits and kangaroos wreak havoc. But, calling it "The Farm" sounds a bit dreamy, and I aspire to be one of those people who live an off-the-grid existence, which explains my fascination with the "farm-to-table" way of living.

Farm-to-table restaurants have become increasingly popular as people seek fresh, locally sourced ingredients and a connection to the land; maybe in our fast food dependant worlds, the quest for the slow is alluring. Isn't that why we were all obsessing over sourdough bread-making during lockdown?

(Show of hands, please, if you have ever had a sourdough starter in your fridge. 🙋‍♀️)

This movement towards farm-to-table dining is all about using the freshest ingredients available, and it has become a cornerstone of modern cuisine.

Farm-to-table restaurants often focus on seasonal produce, locally raised meats, and sustainable seafood. The chefs (or artisans, if you prefer) work closely with local farmers and producers to ensure their ingredients are of the highest quality and support their local communities.

So why is farm-to-table dining better than fast food?

Do we even need to ask? Ok, ok, here's the answer…

Farm-to-table restaurants typically use fresher ingredients with higher quality and more flavor. The flavor is present because the farmers harvest the ingredients just a few hours before the chef serves them. Fast food, ironically, has potentially spent months being shipped across the country and stored for days or weeks. There is beauty in only using what you can access locally and investing time and care into results that people will savor and enjoy leisurely.

Farm-to-table dining is often more sustainable than fast food, as it supports local farmers and reduces the environmental impact of food transportation. It also tends to be healthier, often featuring whole, unprocessed foods free from artificial ingredients and preservatives.

Overall, the farm-to-table restaurant craze represents a return to slower, more straightforward, more sustainable, and more delicious food. By supporting local farmers and producers, chefs can create both flavourful and environmentally responsible dishes, and diners can enjoy an authentic taste of their region. One of the aims is that life slows down to such an extent that dining, the relational connection, and food appreciation become the aim of eating. Tables full of people who are relaxed and happy. 

Photo by Alex Haney on Unsplash

Now doesn't that sound sweet?

"A return to the slower, the more straightforward, the more sustainable."

We live in a culture that appears to be addicted to busyness. This addiction flies in the face of what we value most. Living at a relentless pace is harmful to our well-being - our spiritual, physical, and emotional well-being. The fast does little to allow for reflection, meditation, and time to think creatively or even let us make, labor, and produce things we are proud of.

I heard one of my friends refer to the pace we would work at producing creativity as "the sausage factory" - just churning out things. We'd do anything to meet the requirements of a brief, regardless of how beautiful it was or, if you will, how good it tasted. As a creative, he often found the relentless nature of life sapped his creative impetus, leaving him feeling like he was always left offering up sloppy seconds rather than an artisan-crafted meal. His sense of accomplishment was rarely high, and his satisfaction levels were at an all-time low. There was nothing beautiful or sustainable about the way he was working.

When it comes to my relationship with God, it's easier to live transactionally rather than deeply. I often want to hurry up and read "the verse of the day" or quickly pray the Lord's prayer and move on. It's making fast food of my relationship with God rather than living a farm-to-table kind of sustainable existence. But I want something else.

I long to cultivate a deep and rich prayer life. I want to eat the word in a way that means I am relishing the flavors of this God-life. My heart desires to continually grow in understanding, allowing it to inform my decisions and develop a rich and intimate relationship with the Lord. And yet I know that requires a conscious decision towards a seasonal approach to life. It all matters; Where I sow and invest, reap and harvest, share and till, weed and water. The choice is not to live too far away from the fields, so there is always something to offer from the table of my life.

The slow, the straightforward, and the sustainable are equally as applicable to my spiritual life and my creativity as they are to preparing and eating food.