In 2015, I started working for a company called FARM8. It is a company that re-examines local issues from a fresh perspective and seeks solutions by transcending sectors, regions and, at times, even national borders. Whilst working there, I realised that the connections I had observed in the classroom were mirrored in the fields and at the farm shops.

Around that time, something like this happened.

This happened when I went to a farmer’s warehouse to collect the pears for our products. The warehouse I was shown to was much larger than I had expected; it was filled with a sweet scent, and there were countless crates and baskets of pears stacked up inside.

The farmer pointed round the warehouse with one hand.

‘From here to there, it’s all second-rate stuff.’

‘B-grade’ items are those that do not meet the standards of the ‘A-grade’ produce on the shop shelves. When I was allowed to handle one, I found that it was merely slightly misshapen and had a few shallow scratches; yet, I was told that when cut open, it tastes exactly the same as ‘A-grade’ produce, but is not considered suitable for regular sale.

So, you might think, ‘Why not just sell them cheaply?’ However, it seems that if they were to flood the market with ‘B-grade’ produce at low prices, it would drive down the price of genuine ‘A-grade’ produce as well, so they cannot put them on the market. Instead, they are either supplied to restaurants or sent for processing; if no such outlets can be found, they end up eating them themselves or throwing them away.

‘That’s about all there is, isn’t it?’

The farmer said that and laughed. He didn’t seem angry or disheartened; I suppose it’s just part of the annual routine. This surely isn’t unique to this farmer; every field probably has a shed just like it.

It was then that I realised something quite obvious: produce harvested from the same field and tasting exactly the same was destined for different fates simply because of its shape. The attractive ones were transported to shops far away, whilst the others, unable to travel such distances, were either used locally or thrown away.

It had never occurred to me before that some foods travel long distances and others do not.

Since I started visiting the fields, I’ve realised one more thing: growers cannot choose the shape of their produce. Both beautiful and misshapen fruits grow on the same branch of the same tree, and no matter how much care I put into them—going out to the fields before dawn, regardless of whether it’s a weekend or a public holiday—I cannot determine the shape of the fruit. Yet, simply because of their different shapes, they end up being sold to different buyers.

Neatly arranged shelves in the supermarket. Behind that neat arrangement, there are always items that didn’t quite fit in.

Food that is transported long distances, and food that isn’t. Our dining tables are made up of both.

Starting with what’s closest to us, the produce harvested this very morning and displayed on the shelves at the farm shop comes straight from nearby fields, so it’s fresh and inexpensive, and no fuel or time has been spent transporting it long distances. Eating locally grown produce locally—simply by doing that, you gain freshness, affordability and the convenience of minimal transport all at once.

Seasonality is not unrelated to distance. It is well known that seasonal produce is both affordable and delicious; when a crop is in season in a particular region, it is also the time of year when it is being harvested in abundance from nearby fields. By being mindful of the season and choosing locally grown produce when planning your meals, the distance that food has to travel naturally becomes shorter.

Moreover, it has long been said that seasonal produce is best suited to the body. Winter root vegetables warm the body, whilst summer vegetables help to dissipate body heat. What is harvested here and now is best suited to the bodies of those living here and now. Choosing locally sourced produce was, in fact, a very sensible approach.

Meanwhile, on supermarket shelves, fish that have travelled across the seas, fruit that has come from the other side of the world, and beans that have crossed several continents are displayed as a matter of course. Once they have been packed into containers and labelled with price tags, it is impossible to tell from their appearance alone just how far they have travelled across the seas or how long the journey has taken.

Next to produce harvested this morning from a nearby field, there is produce harvested six months ago in a faraway country, both looking exactly the same.

What is strange is that produce from far away can sometimes be cheaper than that from nearby fields. When goods are transported in bulk as part of a large-scale logistics system, prices fall despite the distance, whilst locally grown produce—which does not benefit from such a system—tends to appear more expensive by comparison. However, the price tags do not reveal whose labour, wherever they may be, lies behind those low prices.

It is not just the price that remains hidden; we have also lost sight of which sea the filleted fish swam in, and on which continent the beans in the packet were grown – all of this becomes invisible by the time the food has been processed, packaged and placed on the shelves. Before we knew it, we had become able to live our lives without giving a second thought to where our food comes from.

Relying entirely on distant sources can sometimes cause problems. If we depend on a single, distant location for a particular foodstuff, then should the weather take a turn for the worse, circumstances in a distant country change, or transport routes become blocked, the usual items will disappear from the usual shelves. Even if there are things that could be grown locally, if local farmland has been reduced simply because produce from afar is cheaper, there will be no substitute when the time comes.

Flavours that aren’t far-fetched are usually there as a matter of course, and we don’t even give them a second thought. Yet, at times like these, they’re the ones we can rely on most.

What’s more, there’s a certain flavour that simply cannot be replicated far away. Pickled vegetables, fermented foods and dried produce—which have been nurtured by the local water, microorganisms and climate—may not turn out quite the same if made elsewhere.

In the past, some people viewed this as a weakness – something that was difficult to sell and hard to promote. However, nowadays, the fact that it can only be eaten in that particular area has become a reason for people to make the journey there, so the inability to transport it has actually become a strength.

Looking at it this way, it becomes clear that this isn’t a question of whether locally sourced food or food from further afield is the right choice. There are many dining tables that rely on food from afar, and my own kitchen is no exception.

However, I do feel it’s a bit of a shame that items from far away and those from nearby are all lined up on the shelves looking exactly the same, making it impossible to tell them apart.

Those who cook at home can bring those subtle differences back into focus. Have a look at the origin labels. Try choosing seasonal produce. And try selecting items that aren’t perfectly shaped.

If you’re going to use them today, there’s no need to worry about making them last; once you’ve cut them up, any imperfections in their shape disappear, so even those ‘B-grade’ pears turned out to be just as delicious as ‘A-grade’ ones once they’d been cut up and cooked. Anyone in the kitchen can choose them without worrying about their shape.

It’s that small yet powerful decision we make when we open the fridge to decide what to have for dinner tonight. I used to think that deciding on a menu was simply a matter of choosing flavours, but it also meant deciding which fields, which season and how far away the food on our table had come from.

The kitchen was more closely connected to the fields and the people who grew the food than I had realised.

Behind each dish, I can see the path leading from the vegetable patch. Ever since I’ve been able to see it like that, the daily act of shopping has taken on a slightly different meaning.

TERUMI ISHIBASHI

FARM8 Co. Ltd.,

Next chapter: ‘The Future Power Nurtured by Cooking’ – Chapter 8: The Kitchen That Transcends Time