Sunday, October 14, 2012

Welcome

Wendell Berry once wrote that eating is an agricultural act. I suppose that means cooking is as well. When he wrote it he was trying to remind us all that even if we haven't set one foot on a farm in our entire lives, when we eat we are at the end of a process that begins when seeds are sown, and that it is important to know the origin and character of our food.

When I decided to make food and cooking my livelihood I took a good look around me. I looked at the industry, it's professional & educational institutions, it's stewards and leaders and it's bad actors and clowns. I wanted to find the place where bullshit stopped and real work began. I very much wanted to be genuine to the things and people that inspired me and this repeatedly and inevitably led me back to the farms and farmers who raised the food I worked with. Every time I opened a box and started working with vegetables I didn't buy from a farmer I knew I was less moved to give it my full attention. It didn't inspire or excite me. Gradually those foods started disappearing from my kitchen. A natural consequence of this was a desire to be very seasonal in my cooking, of course, but I also felt the urge to take a deeper look around me. I wanted to know why we grew the foods we do here and what they say about us as a culture. I wanted to start cooking in a way that honestly reflected this place, to find a way to communicate West Michigan on a plate so clearly that to cook in this fashion elsewhere would seem disingenuous. In short, I wanted what I did in the kitchen to have context.

This last little bit is a work in progress. But it's the idea inspiring St. Anthony, the new restaurant in Douglas I'll be running with my friend and colleague Brandon Joldersma (soon, hopefully). If you get the chance to eat at St. Anthony, I hope it will feel like Michigan to you, like it is something you could only have found here, in this place. I am not a locavore and I can assure you that foods from far away that have that same context, that great story, will be welcome in our kitchen any time. I am bothered by the idea that buying locally is sometimes considered a "movement". To me it should just be our daily habit; observed and quietly celebrated. I don't think it's necessary that buying wholesome food from a farmer you trust makes a statement. It should just be another thing we do in our daily routine that makes our world full and well rounded.

I don't really know what I hope to accomplish with these posts. I'm not going to fret over how many followers I have nor do I have any desire to "monetize" or become often read. I want to have a place to start writing down our story in detail. Each time we roast and bake, peel, pickle, ferment, smoke or in any way take action on an agricultural product there is a reason for it that I will share here. Hopefully a few people may find it interesting. Also, keep your eyes here if you are interested in knowing how the restaurant is coming. Hopefully we'll be cooking food instead of talking about it in very short order.

I have great respect for what farmers do and in the end I felt a little presumptuous calling what I do agricultural, even with Mr. Berry's permission. I don't know where agriculture stops and cooking begins. But I do know that the closer you come to that line, the better your cooking will be.

See you soon.
Matthew

5 comments:

  1. Well said, sir. Looking forward to St. Anthony!

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  2. I look forward to keeping up with you and the progress. Season's eatings Chef !

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  3. Sounds like a great beginning. Local as a "movement" is doomed to failure in my opinion. "Local" because it makes sense should be inevitable, once the masses are educated.

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  4. So I find this to be beautiful, in a deep and elegant way. What you said about wanting what you cook to have context... this idea is not only visceral to what creation must do in order to be considered fruit of the human potential but without context, the most gorgeous thing is empty. Without the story of where your art is made from, there is nothing holding it to the experience of being human.
    I was touched by reading this.

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