It’s a little-known fact that for centuries in Spain, mothers were rewarded for fattening up their children. Women throughout the land wore deep grooves in kitchen floors as they trudged from stove to table, placing solid fare before increasingly sturdy offspring. Everything was carefully recorded in heavy ledgers: every bean, every sausage, every grain of rice. Once a year, in a ceremony whose origins are lost in the mists of history, children were paraded around the village square for appraisal by the townspeople before stepping on the scales for the official weigh-in. Local dignitaries would then award the winner a lifetime’s supply of olive oil.
Women would stop at nothing to secure this valuable prize and accusations of cheating were rife, even among families. To this day, there are sisters who refuse to speak and mothers who cross the street to avoid daughters. During the Franco years, added pressure was introduced when the secret police had powers to conduct random house-to-house ledger inspections. Weigh-ins were eventually banned by the incoming socialist government in 1982 but are rumored to persist to this day in some remote villages.
Throwing It All Away
This is fake news, of course, the product of my overactive imagination and overtaxed digestion after another force feeding at the hands of my Galician mother-in-law. Her cooking style makes you question your beliefs, such as the belief that humans need three square meals a day. Turns out the correct figure is six: breakfast, merienda, lunch, merienda, dinner and merienda. By matriarchal law, at least two of these must be three or more courses.
She also lives by the commandment “Thou shalt not eat leftovers,” shopping and cooking afresh each day to feed a family of 10, although there are only two of us visiting. “Don’t worry about it,” says my partner, cheerfully scraping a full plate of chips into the bin, “It’s just food. Plenty more where that came from.” Having grown up in the 1980s with Bob Geldof shouting at me from the TV about starving Africans, I know he’s wrong but can’t convincingly articulate why. Never liking to lose an argument, especially to him, I start doing some digging. As it happens, he was right. And that’s exactly the problem. In the space of a couple of generations, we’ve become used to a life of unprecedented comfort, ease and abundance, enjoying affordable, exotic food year-round. At the same time, the pace of modern life means we frequently opt for the quick, the easy or the disposable. Made too much food? Box it up and consign it to oblivion in the back of the fridge. Forgot to use that buy-one-get-one-free? Throw it away and get another.
Individually, these actions don’t seem like a big deal. It’s only when you look at the big picture that the true impact becomes apparent. Global agriculture is a thirsty, land-intensive business that takes a huge toll on ecosystems and species. Amazingly, though, around a third of all food produced for human consumption never gets eaten. Developed nations in Europe and the US are, of course, some of the worst offenders, having nearly twice as much food as they need.
In Catalunya, we waste 262,471 tonnes—35 kilos each—per year between supply chains, retail and homes. At home, poor meal planning, preparation and storage, confusion about best-before and use-by dates and supermarket promotions are all to blame. Hot weather causes more spoilage and waste, which is ironic considering the 3.3 billion tonnes of CO2 associated with global food waste is unlikely to cool things down anytime soon.
Adding Fuel to the Fire: Methane & Leachate
When I started researching the subject, I was aware of the environmental cost of food production and shipping; I was used to wistfully rejecting Israeli avocados and succulent Indian mangoes in favor of foods from closer to home. However, I thought the damage ended once it was on my plate. After all, food is biodegradable, right?
My investigations lead me to meet Isabel Coderch Vergés, Founder of Te Lo Sirvo Verde, which specializes in helping restaurants and canteens become more sustainable. Isabel swiftly debunks my belief that food magically becomes compost in the ground. She explains that the Earth can process organic materials in small quantities, like fruit fallen from a tree, but not the industrial amounts that end up in landfill. There, it rots and produces methane—one of the largest sources of GHG emissions in the waste sector—and leachate, water that passes through waste into the soil, accumulating pollutants along the way. Far from being a naturally occurring given, composting only occurs when the conditions are right. In Catalunya, that means for your food waste not to be part of the problem, you need to live in an area with “brown bin” collection, and these are still far from universal.
Isabel acknowledges Spain lags behind many European countries in terms of legislation and initiatives but affirms it isn’t the worst for wasting food. She’s also quick to point out that Catalunya is at the forefront of many sustainable food initiatives, and Catalans are culturally less inclined to overloaded plates or hand out unsolicited complimentary tapas. The recently approved Llei Contra el Malbaratament Alimentary—developed with the UN’s Zero Hunger Sustainable Development Goal in mind—should also help. It prioritizes waste prevention at source throughout the entire food chain over redistribution of surpluses, with human consumption prioritized over animals or composting when redistribution does occur. If you’re the type who likes to get a doggie bag rather than waste food, the law is now on your side: establishments must provide these as standard from now on.
For more on sustainability read our articles Your Garbage Never Really Goes "Away" and Plastic: Can You Go Zero?
The law also provides for gleaning: rescuing fresh, surplus fruit and veg from fields that would otherwise be wasted. This age-old practice is enjoying something of a revival, championed here by groups like Feedback and El Prat’s Fundació Espigoladors, which distributes “ugly and imperfect” fruit and veg to the needy or makes jam with it, and employs people at risk of social exclusion.
One Step at a Time
As with any move towards a zero-waste lifestyle, reducing food waste is about taking the long view. After all, says Isabel, for you to eat an apple someone had to plant the tree. And someone else has to deal with the core when you’re done. As I turn to leave, I mention my mother-in-law and her wasteful ways. Isabel explains that in Galicia an overflowing plate is a sign of good breeding; for a guest to go away hungry is simply unacceptable.
A few weeks later, I’m back at my mother-in-law’s groaning table. It makes more sense now, but I see little chance of convincing her to change her ways. As my partner heads once more for the bin, I surreptitiously smuggle out food refugees, bursting Tupperwares, listless leeks, souring sweet potatoes and moribund mushrooms. I can’t save them all, but it’s a start.
Kate Williams.
Kate Williams is a freelance writer, editor, translator and Director of The Writer Stuff. She left her native England for Barcelona in 2003 and never looked, or went, back. When she isn’t writing or discovering all the cool stuff going on in the city, she enjoys hiking in the Catalan countryside, kayaking on the Costa Brava, and volunteers at a local animal sanctuary. You can read more by Kate here.