I made my first batch of wild rocket pesto yesterday. And no, it's not particularly demanding of either my culinary skills nor any weekend intellectual processes. Until I got thinking about the incredibly complex web of supply chains that intersect to emerge as a warmly oily, slightly astringent, livid green paste in a recycled baby food bottle now nestling in the fridge.
There's the olive oil itself which my local supermarket shelf assures me is of Greek origin and the outcome of extra virgin pressing and then the fragrant pine nuts, resinous little seeds first harvested on some North American conifer plantation, freeze dried and container shipped to complement the salty tang of Parmesan cheese, smug behind its EU protected placename. The rocket and garlic heart of the concoction come from my allotment where their rampant seasonal profusion have forced me to go into semi-industrial production. All this simple stuff spiflicated in a German food mixer and poured into a little bottle of unknown origin with its Swiss label scrubbed off.
An idle calculation of the economics of my modest enterprise, suggest that at commercial quantities and prices, this perky little supplement to pasta dishes carries a substantial retail mark-up even taking bottling, distribution and branding into account. Lucrative enough to investigate with my local farm store. Although then again, the food miles tally should really disqualify me from the trade description 'local ingredients'. And I've no idea how to indemnify myself against nut allergic customers...
Maybe it is some form of science after all.
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