Back to basics in Sweden
By Peter Lundberg
GOTEBERG, SWEDEN–I grew up during wartime (World War II) but in a country that stayed out of it. However, we had food restrictions, fuel restrictions and coupons for most items. My luck was being born and raised in the countryside. My diet was not the 100-mile one but rather the 1/4-mile diet. We grew vegetables, we had rabbits, hens, sheep and fresh milk from the neighboring farmer. In the summer, there were berries, some grown but mostly wild. In the fall, there were mushrooms. And yes, the little lake gave us fish and crayfish. My grandfather made his own wine, my grandmother occasionally made cheese. And of course there were some fruit trees: apples, cherry, pear, plum.
The apples were stored through winter, as were carrots, beets and potatoes as well. Having no fridge nor freezer, Grandmother relied on a series of progressively cooler storage spaces. A kitchen cupboard, an outer cupboard, an earth cellar (which is a concrete lined, ventilated room that after more than fifty years is still mold free).
You can still live like this and it is never only “surviving”. Combined with some wild herbs, like the stinging nettle and a few other species that are considered a pest but are surprisingly rich in vitamins and iron - more so than your homegrown salad - you are never at a loss for healthy, tasteful, and varied food.
One problem today seems to be the view of the potato as just filling, food styrofoam. Customers should ask for varieties and stores should start selling potatoes like exotic imports: displayes on velvet and sold apiece, to get our attention.
Oh, one additional thing. In those days, allergy was virtually unknown in small children. Something about being exposed to a regular small dose of plain, unadulterated dirt.
My grandfather’s small farm was a non-sustainable size even in those days. The fields were worked, though, by men, women and horses. The difference I remember from those days is that during harvest and other peak times, no one ever worked on Sundays and there was always time for lunch and an occasional break. In these days of machine-intensive agroindustry, my neighbors slave to make ends meet through round-the-clock workdays and income from supplemental - or rather, main - regular jobs.
I am now the owner of that little farm so I should start doing something and not just talking. My first project is to set aside part of my land in collaboration with the forest authorities, to provide a habitat for a bunch of red-listed but fussy creatures like the White-Backed Woodpecker.
