Seasons of Food

Seasons of Food

In the musical Rent there's a song called "Seasons of Love" that poses the question, "How do you measure a year?" The chorus offers up various suggestions – daylights, sunsets, laughter and strife, cups of coffee, and so on – until deciding on love. Measure the year in seasons of love.

It works for the characters of Rent, but that's not the way I measure my life these days. If I measured in love, I supposed I'd be having on long, stifling, dry summer in the desert (not unlike summers in Turkmenistan), relieved by the oases of love that I find in friends and family back home.

I often have this song pinballing around in my head, and it's made me wonder how I measure the seasons of my life these days. And I've realized that it's come down to a much more tangible passage of time: I measure the year in fruit and vegetables.

Mandarin oranges are in peak season now – you can buy a kilo for a little less than a dollar. Lemons are also in season, though not for much longer. Pumpkins are still available and have become my favorite food (pumpkin and thyme is a fantastic flavor combination, by the by). Spinach is ubiquitous and cheap; Pop-Eye would weep for joy at the sight of bags upon bags of fresh spinach at the bazaar every Sunday.

And now it's time to begin planting potatoes again. My family has been spending mild days in the garden creating rows in which to plant their saved spuds. Come June apricots will ripen and that kicks off the summertime cornucopia of fruits and veggies from the garden straight to my mouth.

My diet here is much more in tune with the earth than it's ever been. And I feel a greater connection to the seasons as a result. Of course, it's possible to think of the year in terms of fresh produce at Home; I bet most farmers do. But does the wax and wane of ripe fruits cross the mind of the average American more than once or twice a year?

Certainly we know that foods have seasons: rhubarb in early summer, watermelon, strawberries, cantaloupe, tomatoes and sweet corn in midsummer and pumpkins in the fall. Living in a rural area and shopping at road sides stands help cultivate a sense of seasonality. And with people becoming increasingly involved with their food – where it comes from and how it's grown –we're experiencing a welcome shift to awareness of seasons. But we still have lemons and apples and oranges available every time we go to the grocery store. And the best way to develop an appreciation for tea with lemon is to only have lemons four months of the year.

We can always cheat. Buy something out of season if you really need it. In Turkmenistan we don't have that ability – I would call it a luxury but recently I've come to view it as an impediment – and it has changed the way I think about food. Here everything is seasonal. Fruits and vegetables come and go with the months. The meals you eat depend on what is available in the garden. It's a way of life that I hope I don't lose sight of when I return back to the land of refrigerated trucks bearing foods from afar.

Now, will I stop buying avocadoes? Well…no. But I do hope I'll garden. I hope I'll invest the time and money into feeding myself seasonally. Maybe I'll even build a greenhouse. As long as I want fruits and vegetables year round (and I do, my current winter diet is way too monochrome), they may as well come from my backyard rather than a country thousands of miles away.

Making foods from scratch is another good habit I've picked up. Homemade spaghetti sauce is so much more satisfying than red stuff from a jar with questionable ingredients. And in an effort to cut down on the number of granola bars my dad sends me, I made my own recently. Not only do I know all the ingredients that went into them, they were a) ridiculously easy to make and b) delicious. Too delicious even. And the granola that goes into those granola bars? Holy cow. I will never, ever buy granola again. My granola paired with my family's homemade yogurt is now my favorite dessert.

Who needs seasons of love? I choose seasons of fruit. It's a simpler way of thinking about the world, it's eco-friendly, and encourages us to pay closer attention to the earth that feeds and sustains us.