The Fruit Tart Breakdown
Three years ago, on a fall evening, after a long day at work and a 1 hour and 10 minute commute, I bought an apricot fruit tart at a convenience store at the train station, sat down, opened the plastic box, had a bite and started crying. I had a complete breakdown right then and there over said fruit tart. Why?
The fruit tart tasted fine - but it was everything I emotionally attached to it in that moment, which made me crack. At the time, the commute felt strenuous and, working for a micromanaging boss, I was questioning my purpose and the impact of my work. In general, I was in a stage of life where I was questioning life. Introducing: the fruit tart. My train of thought went: is this what it has come to? I work all day, feel drained, buy a fruit tart in a plastic box, which is not environmentally friendly, for 3.95 CHF, stuff my face with it, go to the gym, eat, sleep and repeat. Is this what life will always be like?
I remembered a time when I would come home as a child and my mother had made a tart with plums from the garden and would leave it on the kitchen counter so we could have a slice when we got home from school. They always looked and tasted a little different because she never follows a recipe, but it would always taste good. The love, the quality of fruit - it made all the difference. I am convinced that home-cooked meals always taste better, especially when they are made with love.
I studied food science and work in the food industry, because I have a love for food. My favorite class was food culture and customs at university. I find it beautiful, how food connects people, tells a story about who they are, is attached to memories of all kinds and can be shared and enjoyed by many. Where had this love and passion gone?
It was a wake-up call.
Nobody was forcing me onto this hamster wheel, which drained me. Nobody was telling me that I couldn't start making my own fruit tart. Was it economically sensible to make my own? Absolutely not. The ingredients, time and energy are probably more expensive than that piece of apricot tart from the convenience store. But would it make me happy? Would it taste better? Would I stop generating yet another plastic box as waste? Yes, yes and yes.
Step 1: a tart pan was needed, which I got from my grandmother, who no longer bakes. Step 2: use it. Here was the bottle neck. I had it sitting in the cupboard for a while, as I realized making the dough took a lot of "activation energy" and was holding me back. So, I decided to compromise on the dough - which I now usually buy. Step 3: Fresh, sweet fruit sliced - a smile on my face, when making the pourover-custard never following a recipe or measurements - 30 min in the oven. Step 4: eat fruit tart happily, without crying.
While I've changed a couple of things around since that meltdown, and would generally say that I am happy these days, the lesson was twofold at the time.
One: I cannot change a whole system, save the world from plastic waste and cheap convenience store foods. Part of the breakdown had to do with of how much energy, work, and cost go into a product like the fruit tart - and the realization on how broken this system is. That's how I started seeing it: a product without love.
Two: I am empowered to make the changes, that I need to make in order to be happy again at any given moment. I am the captain of my own ship. The main character of my own story. I get to call the shots.
xoxo, F
[This blog was written, while eating an apricot tart, made with fresh, sweet Apricots from Valais.]
