Neil deGrasse Tyson, an American astrophysicist, is worried. The universe is expanding, and the rate of expansion is accelerating. So much so that he worries that the future generations of scientists can’t learn from what we see now, as many galaxies will be beyond their horizon. He also wonders if some previous chapters of the universe’s history have been ripped from our view. And that’s what keeps him up at night.
I understand his fear at a very terrestrial level.
A couple years ago, my son invited several boys over for his birthday sleepover party. He requested shepherd’s pie for dinner. I made it without lamb, as I thought some of the boys might not like the taste of it. The boys came to the kitchen and took a look at it. One of them turned the pie with a serving spoon and said, “Ew. There’s carrots in there. I can’t eat it.” “Oh, I see onion. I can’t eat it.” So, nobody was able to eat it except my son.
I fetched frozen cheese pizzas and chicken taquitos that I keep for emergency, and the party went on. But since then, I’ve been losing my sleep over this. I worry the restaurants that I like may be disappearing in the U.S. horizon. The U.S. economy is based on the market-driven capitalism. If restaurants can’t find enough diners to support their cuisines, then, they will have to change their menu or close their business. Sadly, with the young generation’s eating habits, I can’t imagine a future where they will suddenly become appreciative of diverse food experience.
There’s an evidence that supports my fear. Almost ten years ago, someone recommended a supermarket in a neighboring town. She said that they had more kinds of vegetables and fruits than the one I went to. I was happy with the nearby supermarket as they sometimes carried some interesting fruit. But I was game.
Indeed, this bigger supermarket had a larger produce section. There were more varieties of apples, each in bigger quantity. However, the number of kinds of fruit and vegetables seemed the same or even fewer. I’ve been going there because they are less expensive, but I often can’t find the items that I see at the nearby supermarket, such as figs and star fruit.
It’s occurred to me that American concept of fruit and vegetables have been narrowing. That’s probably why I’ve seen the produce section dwindling slowly but surely over the years, not in square footage, but in the kinds they put on the shelves for sale, and yet I hardly ever hear others complaining about it. Some of the hard to find vegetables in good condition are parsnips, beets, turnips, varieties of mushrooms, watercress, ginger and Asian leafy vegetables. I sometimes go to two or more supermarkets with my shopping list, and come home with a couple of items left unchecked.
But, I’m also contributing to this trend. After my children came along and especially after the 2008 financial crisis, I only cooked what they would eat. For a while, broccoli and green beans were the only green vegetables I served, carrots and sweet potatoes for the red vegetables. I still don’t cook spicy food as my son is allergic to spices, and that includes broccoli rabe. Mushrooms, okras and spinach aren’t popular either. So, the two side dishes that I serve for dinner are still pretty much those staple green and red vegetables.
To compensate my unfulfilled culinary desire, I very much look forward to going to nice restaurants and having something that I don’t cook at home. But it comes with a price. Rare vegetables and meat and fish are expensive. People love to eat good food, so the restaurants won’t disappear right away, however, I’m afraid that they may soon become so expensive that they’ll be beyond my financial horizon.
I fantasize about retiring in Japan, as their supermarkets carry many different root vegetables and leafy vegetables. I love Japanese sweets made with red beans, too. But even there, traditional food culture is not thriving as much as before. So, people go to specialty restaurants and bars to savor traditional, local and seasonal Japanese food. For some Japanese, that’s the whole purpose of traveling. They don’t mind spending half a day on road just to enjoy carefully prepared local delicacies, and then come right back home after the special meal.
Something else exacerbates my worries: wherever you live on earth, you can’t escape from climate change. It’s wreaking havoc on agriculture. Rising temperatures are shifting where coffee and grapes can grow, for example. To keep their business going, farmers need to adapt in one way or another, and such adaptations can result in higher prices for many crops. The agriculture products that don’t make an economic sense may disappear from the supermarkets and restaurants, and they may even go extinct.
I dare to predict that in fifty years, Americans may be living on hamburgers, hot dogs, pizzas, some pasta dishes and supplement pills. The pills have lower delivery cost and longer shelf-life, therefore, will be less expensive than real food. Life is worth living no matter what. But I’m afraid this supply-demand driven economy will eventually ruin American culinary culture and make our life less savory. How will people even get up in the morning when they can’t expect a warm egg omelette and fruit on a plate and a piping hot coffee in their mugs?
And until recently, that’s how I lost sleep. There’s no solution in sight to the disappearing crops, but I’ve found a way to ease my anxiety. I close my eyes and lure myself into a dream of my future, where I grow my own vegetables in my little garden. I put my hands in the dirt in the morning and enjoy tea in the afternoon. I work outside when it’s sunny, and read when it’s raining. I may not be as happy as I imagine, when I actually live such a life. But for now, it makes me fall asleep dreaming about … picking my own … small and ripe Japanese eggplant … yum …