What we choose to eat...

...reflects who we choose to be

Every seed has a story worth telling—and hearing—because every seed helps its land flourish. This is mine.

 

I am a seed, it's not easy for me. 

 When they planted me, the earth was cool and moist, and I felt at home. I grew slowly but with determination, peeking out to glimpse the world. The light blinded me, but the colors of the sky were mesmerizing. 

Then I became thirsty. I felt like I was dying, longing for even a single drop of water. Day after day, I waited for rain. And when it came in torrents that wouldn’t stop, I felt like I was drowning.

Time passed. I woke up one day, weak but alive. They helped me, but I had to push myself to recover the energy to sprout another leaf. For many of my siblings, there was no second chance.

Mountain agriculture

 

As I grew taller, I heard voices speaking about a land without seasons, under an unpredictable sky. They searched for solutions, lamenting the state of farming today: over 350,000 poisons available to grow crops, with production increasing fiftyfold in the last 70 years. Here, on my land, I was raised free from those breath-stealing substances, but I can still sense them: in my roots, in the wind that shakes my stem, in the whispers of struggling insects.

That’s when I understood—we must form alliances. With plants, animals, water cycles, and people. Together, we can build solutions, supporting each other and growing as one. I have heard terms like agroecology, permaculture, organic farming, and sustainable production...

Mountain agriculture

I heard in the wind the voices of the apple trees and the vineyards.

 

They were overwhelmed by the spring frosts and the summer hailstorms. They told me of great hardships but also hope: there are people who have understood. They have understood the importance of biodiversity and see us seeds as part of a greater system. So they let poppies and forget-me-nots bloom in the fields, alternate crops, and use vine leaves to shield grapes from the scorching sun. They plant other vegetation between the rows for shade and protection.

They rediscover ancient varieties, often more resistant and necessary to diversify production: forgotten apples with spiced, aromatic flavors that carry stories of resistance and bear witness to the endurance practices of a land of valleys and mountains, living in the hands of its farmers. I have seen farmers—patient, unwavering—face storms and toil with dignity, embodying the soul of their communities.

Yet I have also heard their frustrations, because those who grow sustainably often struggle in the market. But in Trentino, they have found ways to unite: cooperatives, local purchasing groups, and solidarity networks connect farmers and producers who share values of social and environmental responsibility. Together, they create strength, sharing and replicating successful practices until they become, little by little, the norm.

This is the story of Slow Food, the Deges network of producers, the Solidarity Economy Districts of Trentino, the Federation of Organic and Biodynamic Farmers, the biodistricts, and many others rooted in valleys and clinging to the slopes of our mountains. Some go beyond farming: they educate, train, and listen. This is the case of GoEver, which not only promotes organic and local cereals but also works to reintroduce ancient grains, reclaim marginal lands, and enhance agricultural landscapes and biodiversity.

They partner with local groups, such as Val Bio Cembra and the Consortium for the Protection of Tenno, to link agriculture with tourism—essential for preserving seeds like me, tended with constant care and attention, but also with a lot of commitment and effort.

Mountain agriculture

The eater has a key role to play: choosing

Choosing from networks of small producers who foster community and climate justice.  Choosing a cuisine that follows the seasons and reflects the land. Choosing to understand a genuine production model that offers the best in all its imperfections. Nearby, the apple trees worry about their hail-scarred fruit. "Will anyone want us now?" they wonder. The goat grazing by my field fears criticism of her rich, wholesome milk: it is the best she can offer, full of health and vitality.

Crunchy salads to enjoy immediately, juicy tomatoes, raw milk, small knobby legumes packed with nutrients, wild herbs dried with care, and berries hand-picked for their delicate forest flavors. These are the true aromas of food—imperfect, flavourful, changing hue according to the season. Each one—with their size, shades and characteristics—tells the story of a year and reflects the courage of those who seek to change the system rather than the climate.

 A philosopher named Feuerbach once said, “We are what we eat.” Now that I have grown tall and strong, I can tell you with confidence: he was absolutely right. A little seed's honour!

Let's take care

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Published on 10/01/2025