Food for thought (not wrapped in plastic!)

Plastic use in the UK is so pervasive that we all have had to adjust our lives to accommodate it. After every trip to my local supermarke for example, I diligently set about peeling off the numerous layers of plastic wrapped around fresh fruit and veg. Separating and disposing of throwaway plastic is one task I would gladly skip if given a choice. And with mostly everything preweighed, packed, and sanitised, weekly food shop is devoid of much joy that is drawn from using our senses to find the best fruits of nature.

In contrast, my trips as a child to the local 'subzi mandi' (vegetable market) with Babaji were a riot of smells, textures, and colours. With fresh fruit and veg displayed in open carts and stalls, vendors exercised infinite precision to form beautiful patterns. And an intoxicating earthy smell swept through the air as stalls were sprinkled with water on those sultry evenings. Babaji and I would shuffle our way through the narrow path, going from stall to stall collecting everything on our list. I could never predict which stalls he would stop at and buy from as he purposefully walked around the busy market. We would occasionally stop to share a plate of 'aloo chaat' or 'tikki' (spicy snacks made from potatoes) while trotting back on foot despite my incessant clamours to hail a rickshaw.

Babaji had a habit to carry a handspun cotton bag when leaving home including of course for those 'subzi mandi' trips. Most vendors weighed and packed loose vegetables in plastic carrier bags but they never doled out bags as liberally, utilising every single one to the maximum and even nudging patrons to carry loose items in personal bags. While the utility of plastic was well acknowledged, it was never a dependency that left us reeling under throwaway plastic endlessly.

Unsurprisingly then, most of our household waste was organic. And as for Amma and Babaji, it was second nature for them to find a use for absolutely anything before binning it. Throwing food was rare with any leftovers considered unfit for consumption by the family passed down to stray animals. So any stale 'rotis' were fed to street dogs or torn up into small bits to feed birds. Sometimes uses were found even for vegetable peels with shells of fresh peas considered to be a special treat for cows! As a result, only a small bowl worth of waste would be generated from a kitchen that served at least six people daily. In comparison, a1litre food waste caddy and two 5litre waste bins are emptied at least three times a week to keep my home for three functioning adequately.

Earlier this week, a group of retailers and consumer goods companies committed to reducing their plastic footprint by introducing lighter packaging. While this is a welcome news story, we as consumers cannot shun the responsibility for reducing waste. After all, we are free to make choices and to say no to things that go against our sensibilities.

As a mum to a young child, I have been hugely dependent on prepacked snacks to get through our busy schedule scooting between places. However off late, by applying my mind (just a bit more than usual!) and rationalising what I put in my shopping trolley, I have found alternatives that can be consumed by the entire family and can help to reduce the plastic waste generated by my son as an individual. So for example, instead of a single pack of crisps/crackers or a juice box, I now carry a piece of pitta and juice (from a family-size carton) filled in a tumbler. This week incidentally I also realised how making pesto at home only takes a few minutes (and ingredients) while giving immense satisfaction compared to shop-bought pesto that comes in a plastic box covered with film.

There must be a thousand and one more ways of doing things differently and only by discovering (or indeed rediscovering) those could our generation leave a positive legacy behind as did those who came before us.