A few weekends ago, I sat at brunch, my husband to my right, two friends across from us, forks dipping into eggs Benedict and quiche, a kale salad nudged to the middle for easier sharing. Despite the restaurant’s proud declarations of supporting local farmers, the eggs in the breakfast dishes were almost assuredly less than ideally sourced, a constant dilemma anytime I go out to eat. A bag of Soylent powder lay beside me, its hotel-shampoo-sized oil container resting next to it. Our brunch conversation had started with work and life updates, before transitioning into a passionate discussion about accountability in food non-profits and “healthy eating” initiatives, with one friend providing her thoughts from a medical perspective. The conversation felt rewarding and stimulating, if a bit esoteric, until her husband chimed in with a sobering thought about these food initiatives: “People don’t care. Maybe 2% of people care. That’s it.”
Each day I face a dilemma sometime between the hours of 11:30 and 1:00. Lunch. There are days when I practically itch to get out of the house; on those weekdays, I use lunch as a significant motivator to finish projects in the morning and as a way to gain steam for the afternoon. We’ve adopted several out-to-eat lunch routines that include walking down Burnside to eat at AND Cafe or hopping over to Bollywood Theater on Division.
When Danny Gabriner first began baking bread, he gave away 1,000 loaves for free. Over the course of six months in 2009, hundreds of neighbors, friends, fellow bakers, bloggers, and businesses received a loaf of Gabriner’s bread, baked in a style he affectionately (yet perfunctorily) calls “regular bread”. For those six months, Gabriner pushed himself much like an apprentice in woodworking or metal-craft might, striving to thrive in the daily repetitiveness while he fine-tuned his methods and furthered his global understanding of bread making.