Archives for posts with tag: recycling

Easily the hardest part of the potting up operation was deciding how many and which seedlings to pot up.

I’m happy to say that our germination rate was very high and that most of our seedlings are healthy and viable.  But we were not very optimistic back in late March and early April and sowed eight or 12 seeds of each vegetable variety and an entire tray—that’s 72 seeds—of basil.  Consequently, we have many more seedlings than we can fit in the garden.

For the squashes, we sowed eight seeds of each variety and all of them germinated.  We picked the four largest (of each) to pot up and that left us with eight seedlings still in the seed tray.  They seem particularly robust and yet we do not have room for them.  On the other hand, I cannot bear the idea of tossing them out.  After all, we raised them from tiny seeds.

So I made an executive decision…and deferred until later.  Back into the house they went with their transplanted siblings.

We had an even higher factor of safety against germination failure with the cucumbers having planted 12 seeds of each, almost all of which germinated.  We filled an entire drainage tray with transplants, seven of each variety, but it is still more than we can use.  Perhaps we will find family or friends who will take some.

And it still left us with eight seedlings in the seed tray.  There is not really room for them inside the house so this time, we tried to be less sentimental about it.  We walked the tray over to the refuse pile behind the house, said some words of thanks to the seedlings for giving us their best, and, in acknowledgement of the cycle of life (and death), tossed them onto the pile.

I know this is the way of gardening but I did not feel satisfied.

And when we got to the tomatoes, it became clear that we needed another plan (or at least more time to think about it).  We sowed 12 seeds of each variety and only have room in the garden for two.  We potted up three of each (to protect against seedling failure) but when we were done, the tray of seedlings looked almost untouched.  Fifty healthy tomato plants are too many to throw away.

So, we will try to find homes for the seedlings we can’t use.  Failing that (and it is unlikely that we will find homes for all of them), I will practice letting go and toss the unwanted seedlings onto the heap.  Maybe this will motivate me to start that compost pile I’m always talking about.

Advertisements

Last week’s New York Times Dining Section included an article about dinner kits, one of the latest trend in convenience foods (“Everything but the Cook”).  It’s an interesting idea:  After browsing menus on a website, the customer orders dishes online.   The next day, a box containing recipes and all of the necessary ingredients—pre-measured and individually packaged—is delivered to the door.  All of the prep work has been done but the customer does the cooking.  The concept falls somewhere between the traditional approach (plan, shop, prep and cook) and ordering in (choose, telephone and wait).  Services like FreshDirect and Peapod fall to both sides, providing either the ingredients (in normal supermarket quantities) or prepared foods (just like take-out).

Dinner kits have some definite advantages.  For people who feel they are too busy to cook, they can raise the quality of the food in a higher proportion than the additional time required to prepare them.  Less food is wasted because only what is needed for the recipe is included in the kits.  And the expansive selections and detailed instructions can help broaden a cook’s repertoire and increase cooking skills.  A dinner kit is also a relatively low-risk way to explore a new cuisine or ingredient.

Of course, one cook’s asset is another’s liability.  The cost of dinner kits is higher than cooking from the larder (no economy of scale) and is more comparable to eating in a restaurant.  The use of pre-packaged ingredients greatly increases the amount of packaging, much of which is not recyclable (I suspect that a lot of polystyrene is involved).  Pre-measuring makes the recipes less flexible—if the cook decides a dish needs more smoked paprika, he or she is out of luck—and means that the food is handled by more people, increasing the risk of contamination.  Further, depending on the cook’s baseline skill set, nothing may be learned from cooking this way.

More significantly, though, the dinner kit concept opens up a debate about what constitutes home cooking.  Few would argue that ordering delivery from a restaurant is any different from eating it out, even if the dishes arrive unheated.  But if they arrive unassembled as well, do they cross the line into the realm of the homemade?  Or is something lost from the home-cooked experience when half of the work has been done by others?

I think it is less a question of what is done and more about how it is done.  For example, a multi-course meal prepared from scratch might not qualify as home cooking if it is performed perfunctorily or without any thought for or involvement of the diners.  Similarly, a dinner out can have significance to and emotional resonance for the guests if the host puts some conscious thought into the choice of restaurant, makes an effort to add to its warm, convivial atmosphere and takes whatever other steps are necessary to insure a positive experience.

The key ingredient, of course, is love.  The more of it that is thrown into the pot, the less the other ingredients matter.  It helps to start the process with attention and thoughtfulness, in the same way that sautéing a mirepoix forms a flavorful basis for soup.  And adding playfulness, adventurousness, or even nostalgia can spice things up, whether it takes place in the home kitchen or at a restaurant.