Heirloom seeds are a cultural inheritance gifted to us, and worthy of our stewardship. The lives of our ancestors are reflected each time we sow a seed, and every time we gather around a table. Connections to our shoreline, fields and waterways remind us daily of our reliance upon our landscapes for food cultivated from a sense of place.
With the resurgence of farmers markets, we are once again able to enjoy the freshness and flavor of locally grown food. New generations of local farmers and fishermen are rebuilding age old systems which fed us from the waters and soils of the seacoast. In the process, we have created vibrant new communities, healthier environments and strong local economies.
We are once again learning to live with respect for our ecosystem. When we eat seasonally, we are reminded of a time when we lived closer to the land, and in greater harmony with the rhythms of place, and the time of year. In winter, we ate foods that we had carefully stored and preserved to insure our survival during the cold months. In spring, we knew thousands of perennial plants and cold tolerant annuals that could sustain us before warm weather crops came in. During the summer, our diet was rich in produce. In autumn, our household traditions were deeply rooted in preserving the harvest and putting by the abundance for winter.
With the resurgence of farmers markets, we are once again able to enjoy the freshness and flavor of locally grown food. New generations of local farmers and fishermen are rebuilding age old systems which fed us from the waters and soils of the seacoast. In the process, we have created vibrant new communities, healthier environments and strong local economies.
We are once again learning to live with respect for our ecosystem. When we eat seasonally, we are reminded of a time when we lived closer to the land, and in greater harmony with the rhythms of place, and the time of year. In winter, we ate foods that we had carefully stored and preserved to insure our survival during the cold months. In spring, we knew thousands of perennial plants and cold tolerant annuals that could sustain us before warm weather crops came in. During the summer, our diet was rich in produce. In autumn, our household traditions were deeply rooted in preserving the harvest and putting by the abundance for winter.
Eating from the land is not new for New Englanders. Once the glaciers receded along our coastal landscape we foraged, hunted and fished. Well over 1,000 years ago, Native Americans in Massachusetts took up the practice of agriculture. Archeobotanical evidence, historical documentation, and living collections help us understand how these communities fed and nourished their families. The early agricultural pattern of planting corn, beans and squash/pumpkin together, known as 3 sisters planting, is widely recognized as one which offers the highest yield pound for pound of any other method known in the world today. Together they create a nutritionally balanced diet that can be eaten fresh or stored throughout the winter. Today, strains of the varieties which back yard gardeners and local farmers have kept alive include cranberry bean, long pie pumpkin/Algonquian squash and Roy’s Calais Flint corn.
Like the beans we understood to provide valuable protein in our diet, generations found free harvest and winter sustenance in the black walnuts, chestnuts and, hickory nuts that dropped from the trees. We added spice to life, and medicinal attributes through plants like wintergreen, teaberry, bee balm, mint, rose, sassafras, sumac, spruce and sarsaparilla.
Like the beans we understood to provide valuable protein in our diet, generations found free harvest and winter sustenance in the black walnuts, chestnuts and, hickory nuts that dropped from the trees. We added spice to life, and medicinal attributes through plants like wintergreen, teaberry, bee balm, mint, rose, sassafras, sumac, spruce and sarsaparilla.
From these first nations, we learned how to make local sweetener by tapping trees for syrup in spring and gathering watercress from springs in the mid-winter. We learned to forage for spring fiddleheads, summer fruits like strawberry, raspberry, blackberry, blueberry, elderberry, currants, gooseberry, wild cherry, beach plum, grape, and cranberry to accompany the fall harvest.
The centuries have taught us the best seasons to harvest wild foods like wild allium (garlic, leeks, onions, chives), and the right times of year to harvest roots like Jerusalem artichokes and ground nuts. We even foraged for sea vegetables, like kelp, laver, dulse and saltwort.
By the 17th Century, the first immigrants to the region began to plant the seeds of their European cultural inheritance. They quickly adopted the native crops of the region, and made regular attempts to grow old world field corns like peas, wheat, barley, wheat and rye for making the familiar bread, beer and pottages that they consumed in Europe.
They brought orchard fruits like apples, pears and a range of small summer fruits like currants, gooseberry, cherry, plum and quince to sweeten life until the fall harvest. They brought perennial crops like skirret, salsify, sorrel and asparagus. Hardy crops like cabbage, onion, parsnip, turnip, beet, leek, collards, kale, and cauliflower and heirloom varieties of greens like orach, purslane, corn sallet (mache), sorrel, chive, endive, chicory, and good King Henry. They also carried seeds of familiar greens like lettuce, spinach, chard and arugula (which they called rocket or roquette). All told, over 170 documented culinary and medicinal were plants introduced within the first 100 years of colonization.
The centuries have taught us the best seasons to harvest wild foods like wild allium (garlic, leeks, onions, chives), and the right times of year to harvest roots like Jerusalem artichokes and ground nuts. We even foraged for sea vegetables, like kelp, laver, dulse and saltwort.
By the 17th Century, the first immigrants to the region began to plant the seeds of their European cultural inheritance. They quickly adopted the native crops of the region, and made regular attempts to grow old world field corns like peas, wheat, barley, wheat and rye for making the familiar bread, beer and pottages that they consumed in Europe.
They brought orchard fruits like apples, pears and a range of small summer fruits like currants, gooseberry, cherry, plum and quince to sweeten life until the fall harvest. They brought perennial crops like skirret, salsify, sorrel and asparagus. Hardy crops like cabbage, onion, parsnip, turnip, beet, leek, collards, kale, and cauliflower and heirloom varieties of greens like orach, purslane, corn sallet (mache), sorrel, chive, endive, chicory, and good King Henry. They also carried seeds of familiar greens like lettuce, spinach, chard and arugula (which they called rocket or roquette). All told, over 170 documented culinary and medicinal were plants introduced within the first 100 years of colonization.
Historically we knew nearly 20,000 food plants that we relied upon around the world. For the ease and profit of agribusiness distribution channels, we have reduced our staple crops to fewer than 2 dozen. This does not mean that we are eating the best or most delicious, it means that it is easier to ship a head of iceberg lettuce, a stone hard tomato, unripe green peppers and bananas that we can market year round.
With the resurgence of back yard gardening and local farming, we are once again getting to enjoy seasonal, local produce which achieved full ripeness and nutritional value in the field.
Our tax-dollars provide massive subsidies to agribusiness. These corporations are built on a consolidation model that finds it more advantageous to ship food an average of 1500 miles, than to invest in local agriculture. We are finally coming to understand that all of this comes at a cost to our health and environment.
Fortunately, local knowledge often reinforces the most sustainable place-based practices.
Food miles and our reliance on petroleum based chemicals and shipping are reduced when we harvest kale from our own back yard or purchase melons from a local farmer. Nutritional value and food safety are improved when our crops are ripened to full maturity in the sun and soil. And above all, the freshness and flavor of a back yard tomato fully ripened in the sun, is unparalleled by anything that can be purchased.
Whether by a Thanksgiving feast, a can of baked beans, a local brew, or a family excursion to forage for blueberries, we are reminded of our historical roots each day at the table. Just as your parents taught you that there was nothing as sweet as a strawberry found in nature, we must make an effort to share the wild-side, and cultivate the uncommon in the next generation.
With the resurgence of back yard gardening and local farming, we are once again getting to enjoy seasonal, local produce which achieved full ripeness and nutritional value in the field.
Our tax-dollars provide massive subsidies to agribusiness. These corporations are built on a consolidation model that finds it more advantageous to ship food an average of 1500 miles, than to invest in local agriculture. We are finally coming to understand that all of this comes at a cost to our health and environment.
Fortunately, local knowledge often reinforces the most sustainable place-based practices.
Food miles and our reliance on petroleum based chemicals and shipping are reduced when we harvest kale from our own back yard or purchase melons from a local farmer. Nutritional value and food safety are improved when our crops are ripened to full maturity in the sun and soil. And above all, the freshness and flavor of a back yard tomato fully ripened in the sun, is unparalleled by anything that can be purchased.
Whether by a Thanksgiving feast, a can of baked beans, a local brew, or a family excursion to forage for blueberries, we are reminded of our historical roots each day at the table. Just as your parents taught you that there was nothing as sweet as a strawberry found in nature, we must make an effort to share the wild-side, and cultivate the uncommon in the next generation.
Each time we recreate an old family recipe, we keep these connections to culture and place alive. Each time we opt to plant an heirloom seed, buy a traditional crop from a local farmer, brew our own beer, or throw a fishing line in the water, we keep memories alive. And the roots we tap into may well be those of the Native Americans who cultivated the land before us, or those our grandparents brought from their homeland.
Today, as we are confronted by unlabeled GMO’s, chemically infused “food-like substances” and unsustainable agricultural practices, we are all empowered to make a difference. By reconnecting to our roots, imbibing a sense of place, and performing an important role as environmental stewards. With the littlest seed that we can hold in the palm of our hand, we can sow the seeds of change.
Today, as we are confronted by unlabeled GMO’s, chemically infused “food-like substances” and unsustainable agricultural practices, we are all empowered to make a difference. By reconnecting to our roots, imbibing a sense of place, and performing an important role as environmental stewards. With the littlest seed that we can hold in the palm of our hand, we can sow the seeds of change.
Wendell Berry suggests that “eating is an agricultural act. What seeds will you plant with your family this year? What traditions will you keep alive? And how will you help others in this region sustain themselves long into the future?
In our work locally and globally with Slow Food, we like to say “eat it to preserve it”. In my life experience, I find that life is more digestible when we savor the fruits of our own labor, when we invest in our own communities, and when we remember that the quality of our food and water is only as good as the environment that we safeguard.
It all begins with a seed. Throughout our history, community has been built and celebrated from the landscape and around the table. Our local food movement today has sustainable roots. Through food culture we have crafted a regional quality of life that has helped our vibrant, edible community spring back from its roots.
In our work locally and globally with Slow Food, we like to say “eat it to preserve it”. In my life experience, I find that life is more digestible when we savor the fruits of our own labor, when we invest in our own communities, and when we remember that the quality of our food and water is only as good as the environment that we safeguard.
It all begins with a seed. Throughout our history, community has been built and celebrated from the landscape and around the table. Our local food movement today has sustainable roots. Through food culture we have crafted a regional quality of life that has helped our vibrant, edible community spring back from its roots.
John Forti is a nationally recognized lecturer, garden historian, ethnobotanist and garden writer. He is the Director of Horticulture for the Massachusetts Horticultural Society, the oldest horticultural society in the nation. Before taking on this new position, he was the Curator/Director of Historic Landscapes at Strawbery Banke Museum in Portsmouth, NH. He previously served as the Director of Horticulture at Plimoth Plantation Museum where the gardens and seed program he created brought international attention to the preservation of Pilgrim and Wampanoag heirloom crops.
John co-founded and served as the board chair for Slow Food Seacoast. He serves on the bio-diversity committee for Slow Food USA and is a governor for Slow Food Massachusetts. He also serves as chair of the board for the Herb Society of America’s New England Unit. Thousands on Facebook follow his posts where he blogs as The Heirloom Gardener - John Forti.
John co-founded and served as the board chair for Slow Food Seacoast. He serves on the bio-diversity committee for Slow Food USA and is a governor for Slow Food Massachusetts. He also serves as chair of the board for the Herb Society of America’s New England Unit. Thousands on Facebook follow his posts where he blogs as The Heirloom Gardener - John Forti.
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