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Slow food may be just what the free thinkers ordered

The way back to our radical, anarchistic roots is through our eating habits

There’s something quasi-subversive about Whistler I’ve always loved. Not far beneath the Disney-esque façade of the village burbles a quirky alternative energy: part renegade/part laid-back hedonism; 100 per cent independent and smart. Kind of like Johnny Depp’s inner pirate.

This subterranean energy is a kind of Mobius strip that circles back on itself, attracting a certain people who in turn fuel the vibe. Like the local squatters who, not so long ago and in the middle of Nowhere, built idyllic little cabins and then doggedly re-built them whenever officials burned them down. And the hippie jocks, as Charlie Doyle dubbed them, who came and still come in a nouveau incarnation to follow a dropped out but healthy path.

It’s the kind of energy that makes Whistlerites all feisty when it looks like Paralympic arenas are being quietly shunted down the road, or a London Drugs is being shunted up it. Or sends them off on a full-moon all-nighter or to a Bacchanalian Masquerave to rub shoulders with painted naked women.

I like to think that this same idealistic, quasi-subversive, hedonistic vibe is going to gradually but irrefutably ignite Slow Food Whistler. (SFW is a proud co-sponsor of the Aug. 21 Slow Food Cycle Sunday in Pemberton. If you missed the Slow Food Whistler presentation at MY Place in June, or previous articles in the Pique on same, the links below will help you check it out.)

Now here’s a concept that makes as much good business sense as it does philosophical, something that’s not at all contradictory for a town that likes to think on the right side of its brain as much as its left and pull out all the stops when it comes to sustainability and doing the right – meaning fun, independent – thing.

To be clear, I harbour no illusions that Whistler culture, counter- or otherwise, is even a shadow of 1968 Paris or Berkeley or a hotbed of anarcho-punk foment. But this – slow food and Whistler – could be a match made in heaven, especially given falling tourist visits for four consecutive years.

First, some context. It’s no surprise that Italy is home to the slow food movement – antidote to fast food and all things homogenized, corporatized and globalized; advocate of all things diverse, locally obtained, slowly prepared and sensuously enjoyed. For Italy is also home to superb food, the two-hour meal, and the concept of autogestione – literally self-management, but better translated as self-determination.

If the slow food people will allow me to digress a bit… Italy has long been a hotbed of independent thinking that’s fostered co-operatives, trade unions and all sorts of radical social action. ( Autogestione actually refers to factory workers taking control of their factories and running them democratically without a boss, a post-1968 concept that, while it sounded good at the time, has gotten a bit tattered.)

Go ahead, call such ideas subversive, even anarchistic if you like, but only if you contextualize anarchy as advocating voluntary action by free individuals and the elimination of coercion.

Bet you didn’t realize you were a closet anarchist, eh? Well, you might be a closet slow foodie, too.

If you can see the silliness inherent in systemized agribusiness and the burning of oceans of petroleum-based products so we can eat fresh but tasteless strawberries from Chile in January or farmed tiger prawns year-round that have messed up the South China Sea…

If you can get into the idea of supporting independent farmers who value the ground they grow in and generate food that tastes and feels ten thousand times better than the plasti-wrapped stuff picked months ago in Sacramento Valley…

If you can see food as a literal and metaphorical vehicle for taking your life into your own hands, for feeling good and thumbing your nose at the rat race (the slogan of a previous generation was, best I can remember, tune in, turn on and drop out), then put your money where your mouth is and sign on the dotted line – you’re ready to become a card-carrying member of the slow food movement.

"To me it (slow food) brings everything together. I have a huge interest in health, a huge interest in people being well. I believe food is the access – food is your medicine," says Astrid Cameron, owner of Astrid’s Fine Foods and driving force behind Slow Food Whistler, who once suffered from too many PowerBars and Starbucks coffee.

"Then I see the farmers, like the Helmers and the Millers (in Pemberton), who’ve spent generations, or their whole lives, tending to the soil that feeds us. It’s out of respect for them and for our land to eat local and educate myself."

So how self-determinant and anti-global is that?

The cool thing about the slow food movement – and it really is a movement, complete with its own manifesto and people’s politick (how avant garde is that?) – is that there is nothing frou-frou or white linen about it. Au contraire .

"We don’t want anything like that. We want to totally de-snob it and get everyone involved," says Cameron.

In fact, the whole slow food concept is very practical for families or anyone who wants to eat like a president on a liftie’s paycheque – you’ll actually end up spending less since you’ll feel more satisfied (read: nourished) with less food. This is not physiological hocus-pocus; ask any qualified dietician or nutritionist.

At the same time, you’ll be carrying on two fine traditions inherent to subversion at Whistler, or wherever you find it: freethinking and having a good time.

Next time we meet:

Slow food and the left brain: growing opportunities for Whistler

 

Start the Slow-volution here

• Slow Food Cycle Sunday goes 10 a.m. — 6 p.m. Sunday, Aug. 21. Start at the parking lot at Pemberton Community Centre. It’s free and it’s self-propelled. (How subversive is that in an oil-based economy?)

The brainchild of Anna Helmer, a third-generation potato farmer who runs Helmer’s Organic Farms with her parents, and Lisa Richardson, this 50-km street party on Pemberton Meadows Road will afford opportunities to meet local growers, sample their wares, and learn about the great food you can find locally. Bring your baskets, backpacks and/or wagons to stock up on locally-grown, -baked or -made goods.

• Slow Food Whistler is part of an international movement that urges people to slow down and savour food and life with all their senses. Contact Slow Food Whistler at info@whistler.slowfood.ca, or visit the Vancouver convivium at www.slowfoodvancouver.com.

Glenda Bartosh is an award-winning freelance writer who is one of the slowest eaters on Earth.