Stories from Root Causes: Fresh Produce Program
The Salty, the Spicy, and the “I don’t even know what this is”
“How does the okra taste, Ms. Jones?”
It was the first time that the volunteers were running the cooking demo at the program, and needless to say, I was nervous. As undergraduates who relied on the student meal plan at the campus dining hall for all our meals, none of us were particularly experienced chefs. Today’s produce bag contained okra, so we decided to stir-fry some okra for our demo. After all, how could you go wrong with stir-fried okra? We did three iterations of the cooking demo, since patients arrived to the program at different times throughout the distribution hours. Two volunteers, Yen and Osmay, took turns cooking the food. One of the patients at the program, Ms. Jones, was present for all three cooking demos and therefore tasted all three batches of our stir-fried okra dish. We asked her for feedback, and she graciously complied:
“Well, the first okra dish was kind of salty, the second one was spicy, and this third one…” She took another bite. “I don’t even know what this is!”
Osmay and I doubled over with laughter, while Yen’s jaw dropped wide open.
“‘I don’t even know what this is?’ Did you hear that scathing critique of my stir-fried okra?” Yen huffed indignantly.
Of course, there was no malicious intent behind Ms. Jones’s comments whatsoever. Osmay had put salt in the first okra dish and chili flakes in the second dish, hence, the “salty” and “spicy” flavors respectively. However, in the third iteration of the dish, Yen had decided to use a mysterious seasoning in a bottle labeled “savory.” Evidently, the “savory” seasoning had an ambiguous taste. After that, we all agreed to leave “savory” on the shelf for a while.
Eat your greens
One of the patients at Fresh Produce Program regularly brought his son Ty with him. Ty was a small boy—I didn’t know his age, but he looked around five or six years old to my eye. Ty was usually always fidgeting or climbing under chairs or tables, but when we brought back the cooking demos, he became obsessed with watching us cook and tasting the food.
“Can you please do the cooking demo?” Ty begged me, drumming his hands eagerly on the table.
“Of course, Ty, but it’s pretty boring this week. Just spinach. Do you like spinach?”
“I love spinach!” Ty exclaimed.
“Really, you do? What’s your favorite food?” “SPINACH!” he yelled.
Ty’s dad, who was sitting right behind his son and had overheard our entire exchange, broke in at this point,
“Ty, stop messing around. You don’t even like greens. All you eat is hamburgers and fries.”
“No, I LOVE spinach!”
As soon as we finished sauteeing the spinach, we served Ty some up on a small paper plate for him to try. Eagerly, he stabbed a bunch of leaves with his plastic fork and shoved it into his mouth. His eyes bulged with delight as he swallowed them.
“Mm!” he gushed, before turning to his father. “Dad, try some! It’s yummy!”
His dad looked up from his cellphone, his face distorting into a grimace of disgust.
“Pleaaaaaseeeee, try some!” Ty insisted, shoving the plate towards his dad.
His dad rolled his eyes. “Get that away from me—spinach is gross.”
Ty shrugged, and inhaled the rest of his spinach in seconds. I watched, amused, as I pictured how hard most parents had to struggle to get their children to eat even a handful of vegetables. I wondered if it was the rarity of vegetables that made them so appetizing to Ty. Or perhaps he just really enjoyed vegetables.
Let’s trade
“Hey Sophia, do you have a moment?” Julian asked me.
“Yeah, what’s up?” I replied, looking up from the patient surveys I was sorting.
“Do you mind facilitating an exchange for Ms. Mary here?”
The situation was this: Ms. Mary loved kale. In fact, she loved kale so much that she was willing to trade some of her other greens with someone else for some more kale. She wanted to ask the gentleman sitting next to her to trade, but she was too embarrassed to talk to him. That was where I was supposed to step in and help.
“Excuse me, sir,” I began, standing right in between the two. “This lovely woman here would like to know if you would be willing to give her some of your kale in exchange for some other greens.”
The man raised an eyebrow, but did not respond. Silence ensued. I waited a bit, and then awkwardly repeated my question. “I really like kale,” Ms. Mary added sheepishly.
The man smiled amusedly and shook his head no.
“That’s ok,” I told him.
I gave Ms. Mary an apologetic shrug, and went back to my paperwork. Then, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I watched the man reach into his produce bag and take out a bunch of kale. He presented it to me and pointed to Ms. Mary.
“Oh! I’m sure she will appreciate it,” I thanked him. The corners of his mouth turned upward in a small smile. I passed the kale to Ms. Mary, who blushed and then shyly gave me some of her other vegetables, which I put in the man’s bag. He nodded in acceptance before directing his attention elsewhere, never speaking a word the whole time.
