March 2, 2011

By Ronnie

During the Depression, my immigrant grandfather came home one day with two bananas, something that was totally out of reach for them normally. He shared them with his oldest sons, and the younger ones didn’t get any. You can imagine the indelible impression this made on a four-year-old.

Growing up in my generation in rural Pennsylvania, we didn’t have much but we had home-cooked food. But it turned out that all those lovingly made desserts weren’t very good for his heart, he had his first heart attack at 57. Stress contributed, but so did blackberry pies and spice cakes with mountains of icing.

These days in Toronto I eat slow food, cook from scratch, and eat as healthy as possible. I try to know who grows my food whenever I can. And I’m drawn this year to make a raised bed in my front yard to move beyond herbs to shade-tolerant vegetables.

One ritual in my life these days has to do with a very local NGO I work with on water issues. We meet at someone’s house and there’s always a meal. The connection between the volunteers and the intensity of our commitment to the cause is directly flavoured with Mariam’s Indian spices and healthy food.