Savouring the Free Lunch: Edible Activism and the Joy of Foraging

Abstract

In the spring of 2016, I (David Chang) had the privilege of working on an organic farm on an off-the-grid island off the coast of British Columbia. On a mild afternoon , the sky pale with strokes of stratus clouds, I descend a steep embankment with Emily, my host at the organic farm, and alight on glistening sands along the alcove. At low tide, the waters loom far on the sightline, and the beach runs wide and clean, mirror pools flush green with kelp. I dredge through thick sand, labouring half a mile toward the water's edge, coming upon a rocky archipelago, surrounded by a sleet of shells on the sandy bed. Three of Emily's friends have already arrived, leisurely digging clams, chuckling in each other's jovial company. "The oysters don't look great." One of the women says with concern. "I guess there hasn't been much to feed on," Emily replies. Despite the apparent diminishment in the quality of the yield, the beach looks bewilderingly abundant. Oysters strewn broadside along the inter-tidal zone-hardly a space to place my feet without crunching a shell. Emily pulls out two mason jars from her satchel and fills them half full with seawater. She shows me how to choose the best oysters-the ones that display a purple, frilled edge along the valves are ones undergoing rapid growth, and more likely to taste plump and juicy. After learning the markers, I set about foraging for prime specimens. I fastidiously sift through the hundreds of oysters in my vicinity, but only a dozen or so are big enough for the dinner table; fewer still exhibit the frilly shell that Emily prizes.