Considerations of a Cook: Ownership and Upcycling

I've been considering two concepts that have a significant presence in my life, and very possibly yours. Ownership and Upcycling. The ideas of "owning"something vs. taking ownership of something, and Upcycling vs. recycling. 

When new groups arrive here at The Whidbey Institute, Michelle Brock (resident host), and I will have an orientation. We go over essential information such as checkout times, environmental awareness of the "things that go bump in the night", please reuse water & coffee cups as you are comfortable doing so, and we are stewards of this land. And these last two have been sticking out to me. Reuse as an awareness of waste and We are all on stolen land.

There are deeper ramifications in the notion of being a steward of this property; one of many that have come before. Before it was regarded as property it was a terrain, a place of prayer and/or worship, and a home. I won't presume so much as to say I understand even a portion of the depths of indigenous wisdom that informed the goings on of the coastal Salish people(s) whom engaged in so much culture, tradition, society, and economy that is unfortunately almost alien to so many.  
The idea of owning, someone or something, is fraught with peril, immense suffering, and oppression of others. I endeavor to reconcile the ownership I was offered, as a model of success in a capitalist/Patriarchal structure, to one I create, to take ownership of my position and release all notions of something belonging to me because I have done so. I want to experience my ownership through a lens of Internal Authority, shoutout to Michelle Brock for that one. 
As Chef and resident co-caretaker of The Whidbey Institute, I have responsibilities to this land, to the people that work here, visit here, and inhabit here. The faithful execution of these responsibilities has a satisfaction that is self-fulfilling. To fulfill them, not because it will lend my voice credibility or that they guarantee me ownership of my environment, but because it lends my actions humility, and thusly wisdom. Such as the Wisdom it takes to understand that even though what I was taught might have been incomplete or downright false, I may still have an obligation to endeavor towards a solution.

Take recycling for instance. Throughout my life it has gone from "the emerging plea of the hippies" (forgive us we were raised in the midwest), to the essential task of every home to do their part in saving the planet. Then, somewhere in my mid-30's I was introduced to greenwashing. To summarize, the concept that large corporations, particularly ones that were creating staggering waste (biological, chemical, etc.)  co-opted and then weaponized the notion that individual consumer recycling would make a substantial difference in the overall health of our planet. That I could do my part to offset industrial waste by sorting tin from aluminium. Weaponized in that I saw in my life a harsh judgement emerge towards those who don't recycle. 

And so I return to my Wisdom, be it as it may that I might never be able to in ten lifetimes meaningfully offset industrial waste from mega-corporations, I won't sit by and do nothing.
In the Whidbey Institute kitchen we do what I call "Intentional Upcycling" of ingredients. Practically speaking what that looks like is roasted beets from dinner the night before is used to make a root vegetable salad the following lunch. We are well within all standards of safe food handling, it's an exercise in creativity to "transform" an ingredient, and it's ethical in the face of food waste. We don't try to hide it, we're not pulling the wool over anyone's eyes, it is intentional and a certain matter of pride for some. Understanding that feeding our guests interesting, simple, nourishing, and flavorful food with a certain diversity is vital, this practice is a subtle act of resistance towards the industrialization of a terribly wasteful food production system. 

Chef Miles Harrison