Being intentional matters: Reflections from The Sage School’s feast, “Soil & Soul”

Admittedly, one of the reasons I wanted my children to attend The Sage School is because of their year-long focus on the American food system in the upper grades. It may seem a selfish reason, considering I’m a nutritionist, foodie and local food system advocate, yet I believe it’s one of the most important areas of study, addressing political, environmental, nutritional, cultural, social and economic issues locally and globally. Plus, it’s not a subject taught in traditional public schools, so who’s going to save the world if no one studies this vast and complicated topic and, subsequently, impart their enthusiasm for change unto the greater world?

Relatively few people are conscious consumers and those who are tended to be rooted in their food values. Generally, Americans remain ignorant about how corporate money directs food policy, marketing and, ultimately, our food choices and global health. Big ag wants it that way.

What does it even mean to be intentional about food choices? Perhaps we choose food that supports optimal mind-body function, chronic disease, body goals, the right macros, a child’s dietary needs during different life phases; food that supports the family budget, kitchen competency and demanding schedules; food that supports organic, small farms and animal welfare; food that supports fair wages, good working conditions and independent grocery stores; food that supports biodiversity, natural rhythms, clean energy, low impact, less waste.

Can you imagine thinking about all these things and more for each meal and snack? It’s overwhelming. How do we make sense of eating?

We begin with education. Knowledge gives us perspectives to cultivate food values, them make informed choices. Then, consumers become the most powerful people in the food system—not the mega corporations who control most of the world’s food supply.

At The Sage School—where adolescents are folded into the contexts of family, small social and broad communities, plus natural and built environments—it seems logical to include food systems in their curriculum. One core concept underlies the curriculum—doing the work together.

Tenth grader Max Zeigler, who welcomed over 100 people to the meal, described preparing the final project—the feast—as an opportunity to be “a group working to create something together.” At the beginning of the year, the class was not a team yet. They knew each other, yet their different personalities, strengths and perspectives made the project challenging to navigate. Up front, they each made commitments. “Some of us focused on being more open, some on speaking up, some on letting go of past assumptions, and some on being more willing to listen to others’ opinions.” These commitments to changing themselves happened over the course of the project and gave them “something meaningful to work toward.”

As they moved through the trimesters, the students investigated every step involved between producing food and plating food. Through visits to small farms and industrial factories, to feedlots and processing plants, they dissected the challenges of the modern systems through perspectives of scale, production, safety, energy usage, how far food travels, and the ways in which production, processing, purchasing, distribution, consumption, energy and waste in our modern food system impacts people and the environment. When studying nutrition, they learned about food labeling, digestion, metabolism and the microbiome, as well as how we eat. From soil to soul, these students discovered “where our food comes from, how it is grown and how it gets to our plate.”

One big aha is the realization about “how easy it is to become disconnected from food. It can feel like something that appears rather than something that has been carefully grown, prepared and shared.” Turned out, the students really care where their food comes from. In Max’s words, they learned “how complicated food really is, and that there is not just one right answer or solution.”

For the final project, the students decided the feast would celebrate a few key elements that mattered to them: it must be intentional, simple, sourced locally and shared with family and friends.

As Max spoke, I looked around the space, noticing the big picture and the tiny details.  Over a hundred guests were engaged in lively conversation, every detail of décor designed to make the barn feel cozy, with sashes draped across the open space above; complete table settings with perfectly placed cutlery, water and wine glasses, handwritten guests’ names, and hand-painted table numbers; auction tables boasting natural photography, ceramics, mixed media artwork, fishing trips and nature getaways.

Atop the plates were round, artfully designed menu cards in hues of purples, pinks, greens and blues that popped above the sage green napkins. One side of the card offered the John Muir quote, “When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe” and on the reverse, a description of the Mediterranean-inspired meal. Past the appetizer hour, with one hors d’oeuvres highlighting steelhead caught by a group of students, the mezze course was nestled on the table atop wooden cutting board the students handcrafted and amidst a trifecta of potted herbs. We spooned beet yogurt sauce, radish tzatziki, olive oil dip onto fresh naan or Italian focaccia (or both). I opted for two servings of the herby green salad with vinaigrette—a habit of mine when I enjoy the salad so much and am uncertain whether the rest of the meal would meet my locavore foodie values.

This time, it did. Ocean, the student serving our table, visited us frequently with five entrees—Crispy Croy Canyon Sunchokes; falafel made with northern Idaho chickpeas; honey glazed carrots over house-made labneh and sesame dukkah; and grilled beef kafta with spicy mint cilantro relish.

Curious, as ever, about sourcing (especially in spring), I opened the “Soil & Soul” booklet hugging the water carafe. I was surprised to see names I didn’t know, excited learn more about these producers, and hopeful that more people were producing food locally.  Greg and Bea, of B&G Produce, were sitting at my table. As I helped serve the carrots while Ocean was away (the plate was heavy), Greg joked, “I don’t like carrots, but I’ll eat these because I grew them!” I thought they were perfectly balanced with spice, sweetness, tang and crunch. I ate seconds.

Though the carefully crafted meal undoubtedly nourished my body, my mind and heart were equally filled. Writing this and reading Max’s words (he graciously gave me his speech), I am impressed with what the students showed us, that “good results take time and effort. Whether I’s food, teamwork on anything else, the best outcomes do not come from rushing or doing the bare minimum. They come from caring about the process.”

·      Last month I helped teach the 10/11 Sage students about the human microbiome, a testament to how much we eat in the standard American food system. Read more here.

·      Do you know we have a Clean Food, Messy Life podcast? Watch this episode with The Sage School students recorded during the fall trimester while studying the American food system.

Originally written for and published by 5BGazette.com