Lost in the Food Desert

I’ve been in a bad mood lately, which isn’t something that happens often. (For real, ask Colan.) While I think our iron grip on the short straw may not help the situation, I suspect it comes down to how we’ve been eating. Seriously, I think it’s that simple.

We’re neither virtuous nor voracious (somebody tell my Munchies, please) eaters, but Food is one of my great passions, and cooking—a beloved hobby. I am at my geek-outiest when it comes to all things food— it’s medicine, both in soul and body, but it’s malady, too. It’s abundantly clear now I romanticized what eating and cooking on the road would look like. I envisioned farmers markets at every turn because why wouldn’t there be when we’re chasing the sun and an entire world of eating seasonally should *theoretically* open up? World’s our fresh caught oyster and all, especially with so much time coastside. But it hasn’t been that way. Planning our diet has been one of the most monstrous potholes we’ve encountered yet. Why is getting real food so hard?! There are already so many obstacles to eating healthfully in today’s world that access to fresh food shouldn’t be one of them. 

Since my days in NYC, I’ve known about food deserts—communities with limited access to healthy and affordable food. I’ve even worked directly with many organizations and families, exploring how to prepare healthful, simple meals with what’s available in these deserts. Even so, I’m floored with how pervasive a problem it is across our great country! It’s borderline ridiculous what a chore it is to hunt down fresh fruits and vegetables out here. Modern grocery stores are hard to come by in many of our stops, and the produce section often seems an afterthought. Planning is essential, or we get caught in a vicious cycle of make-do meals that have the unintended effect of making us crave more make-do food. What is abundantly clear, no matter where we are? When we mostly eat home cooking, we feel good; when we don’t, we don’t. (Not particularly scientific, I know, but controlled studies are pretty hard in our current sample-of-two situation.) 

We’re still recovering from our month without a refrigerator (don’t ask; it’s a painful, long story you don’t want to sit through that involves laughable phrases like “RV Industry Standards and Regulations” and “mostly self-regulating.”) The food waste was diabolical, and I lost a freezer’s worth of home cooking in addition to whatever was in the fridge. (That could def explain the bad mood.) It’s been hard to get motivated to do it all over again, but it’s gotta happen. Vicious cycles need breaking. We’re parked for the next month in Palm Desert, California, and there are so many food shopping options. It may as well be Disneyland, as far as I’m concerned. (Let’s ignore that California groceries cost me about $100/bag. The mood can’t be allowed to get darker. It mustn’t. It shant!) 

I’m bound and determined to restock the freezer while we’re here and get us back to primarily home-cooked meals. I owe it to us; plus, the Coachella Music Festival is looming, our first time, no less. (No, we’re not chaperones. Very funny.) We’ve got about a month to train. Plus, I’m sick of my own mood. It's time to get back to enjoying regular nomad-living problems, like no storage or counter space— harken back to a simpler time of cussing out a nonexistent dishwasher.

Hope to see you out there! (I promise to be in a better mood.) —CL