foraging St. Louis style: September 10

I worked at Schnuck’s Market, the St. Louis grocery chain, for 2 or 3 years as a teenager. In all that time, I never questioned what they did with the spoiling produce, the day-old breads and pastries, or any of the other food that we typically find in grocery dumpsters.  Back then, I was completely naïve to the fact that perfectly good food went to waste, and even though I was a poor college student, I might have reacted like my sister did when I offered her a bagel that Andre and I rescued from the dumpster at the Schnuck’s up the street from my dad’s house—with a look of disgust and the comment “I will happily buy my groceries, thank you.”  When we landed in St. Louis, I knew we’d be visiting the Trader Joe’s dumpster I’d scoped out during my trip home last Christmas, which was unlocked and full of bags.  Diving at the local grocery chain, however, never occurred to me.  I thought somehow they’d be better about donating their spoils.  After all these years, I’m still naïve.  Roger Moss called it “close to nature.”

I’ve been questioning how we became so afraid of food.  For example, why is it that we feel the need to refrigerate eggs in this country?  What have we done to our eggs, sterile little balls of goodness, that they now require refrigeration? 

Many of us are truly afraid, I suspect because we have lost, or more likely distrust, our ability to determine what is good and what is bad.  We have come to rely on other people, experts, authority, to tell us what is safe to eat and what must be trashed (round-filed as my dad used to say).  We expect unripe fruit, flawless avocados, salads that expire 4 days from now even though we plan to eat it today or tomorrow.  That’s what fresh means.

Thankfully, my parents eat the “trash” that I bring home.  In fact, they’re happy to eat it, but I think showing them the documentary “Dive” helped to convince them of the quality and safety of dumpster food. Dad immediately slathered cream cheese on a sesame seed bagel, his favorite kind, that we brought home on Saturday, but many people would turn their noses up to our offerings—something fellow divers are probably happy about, but food in the trash is bitter sweet for me.  I’ll have a cheese bagel and figure out what to do about this mess.