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I’ve been to clothing swaps, to potlucks, and food festivals. I’ve Freecycled, sold or given items away on Craigslist. I provided and received services from a time bank. I’ve mended and paid professional tailors to repair my clothing. I participate in a gift circle. I’ve volunteered for nine consecutive years at the same charity event because the gig includes all-you-can-eat pie.
It makes perfect, practical sense, right, that a person like me who trusts and enjoys and flits around in “alternative economies,” would fall in line with a food swap? Which begs the question: why the heck did it take me so long!?
Some theories:
- I’m lazy. (Okay, that’s not fair.)
- I don’t like to cook. (Mostly true.)
- I’m not that good a cook. (Also mostly true.)
- I have too many things going on in my life at once. (Dingdingding!)
- It’s not about me. (Hmm . . . )
Suffice it to say that, when I walked through the door at Space with A Soul and sighted my very first Boston Food Swap, I knew I’d met my match. Three very efficient organizers, a room full of the cutest and most elegant handmade food packaging, serious-looking cooks sampling well-turned out baked goods, roasted nuts, kimchi, jellies and jams, fruit compote, chocolate covered strawberries, chai tea, flaky meat-filled things, rice pudding . . . whoa! Intimidating.
After I saw the spread, I was a little concerned no one would want my bread (ignore that rhyme.) But then four people did. Phew.
Sighted: one of my little breads in this basket!
Phoebe Sinclair Writes 