It’s the early eighties ~ 1983 or so. We’re at the grocery store, cool and brightly lit. It seems like such an enormous place to me. I’m still looking up to see most of the goods, my head coming up to about counter level…. I am small. Maybe 5 years old. We’re at Waldbaum’s Food Mart, on King Street.
There are open bins of individually wrapped candies. Brach’s. I know for a fact my sister has plunged her hand and taken a few on previous trips. Classic kid stuff.
But my petty crime takes place in the produce department. It is sprout-related.
I zero in on a box ~ the clear plastic square kind that is densely packed with sprouts. I marvel at its contents. It’s impossible to just take a few. I cram a handful in my mouth.
Euphoria. I need them.
The thick dense forest of tiny green shoots is satisfying. SO satisfying, I can remember everything about this moment of elation, in my study, now over forty years later, thousands of miles away.
Not all kids go straight for the sugar. I craved SPROUTS.
… and I ate the whole box.
I returned to the scene of the crime a few more times in the years to come. A repeat offender in this act of juvenile delinquency. Not too much though. It’s hard to eat a whole box of sprouts without someone taking notice.
*****
While living in the Bay Area in my early twenties, frequenting the Farmer’s Market on the Embarcadero, a friend and I tried wheatgrass for the first time. “It’s like drinking a lawn,” she noted.
Eating that box of sprouts felt a bit like that. Funneling a pure dose of fresh growth ~ potential energy ~ directly into my system. Did I mention the euphoria?
Years later, I learned just how full of nutrition sprouts actually are. But all the nutritional data in the world couldn’t do justice to that felt experience of taking this mega-dose of energy in ~ light, crunchy, green, densely packed.
It’s so clear to me now, from all I have learned about nutrition, that this deep craving reflected a real need. Sprouts were exactly what my system needed. I wasn’t excited by candy, or milk, or tomatoes, or bagels, or even cheese.
It was all about the sprouts.
I was raised vegetarian and spent years being super picky. I didn’t like cheese. We didn’t eat tofu. I only ate eggs in a very specific way, and felt squeamish about virtually all unfamiliar foods. Vegetables were cool for the most part (thank goodness; and thanks, no doubt to the organic garden my grandfather started, my father continues to tend with love, and in whose magical soil and patches of prolific growth I spent much of my childhood).
Bread and butter; crackers and butter; pasta and butter were, predictably, my staples. I can see now that my diet was likely deficient in protein, many micronutrients, and quality fats.
Sprouts (especially taken in mass, as I managed to pull off in that produce aisle) were like a superhighway for protein (and plenty of other essential micronutrients) into my system.
I still love sprouts. And micro-greens now, too. Simultaneously earthy and light, there is a delightfully springy, uplifting quality about them.
I don’t cram them in with quite the level of abandon that my wee, 5-year old self did, all those years ago.
Sometimes I think about it. But I assure you, I love these little energetic powerhouses with all my heart and soul. We throw them on top of pasta, stir-fry, soups, and into smoothies. We use them in sandwiches, wraps and salads. We don’t eat the whole jar in one serving. A little goes a long way.
Lots of people love a little crunch and find themselves reaching for chips, crackers, toast, croutons. I’ve been known to enjoy all of these, of course. But if it’s nourishment you’re after, there’s no comparison. Sprouts will give you a crunch, and a host of other necessary goodies, such as antioxidants, not found in chips!
Sprouts are a super way to get some fresh greens into your meals at any time of year. They are a lesson in abundance, efficiency, and the power of small things: a mere 2 tablespoons of some tiny seeds, properly attended to, can grow to fill a quart jar in a matter of days, and unleash loads of nourishment along the way.
Pretty amazing. Pretty inspiring, really.
I think of the famous saying, so essential to invoke in the face of the heartless greed and cruelty; the injustice and violent oppression of these times, attributed to Greek poet Dinos Christianopoulos:
”They tried to bury us, but they didn’t know we were the seeds.”
The quote itself feels like a source of nourishment right now. And a reminder ~ to Never underestimate the power of small things.
Sprouting can be a radically nourishing act. A reframing of our options; of how we consume. A reclaiming, of sorts. There is a deep sense of agency in a simple countertop sprouting practice.
My favorite blend these days is a mix of fenugreek, radish and clover seeds. Broccoli sprouts have impressive anti-cancer properties. The process of sprouting increases available protein, vitamins and antioxidants. It increases bio-availability: our ability to fully Absorb the extensive array of nutrients that live within any given seed.
The potential energy contained in a seed is astronomical. This article from November 2015 reveals a successful cultivation of a plant from seeds buried for 32,000 years, thanks to the effect of permafrost (and some ancient Arctic Squirrels).
Seeds hold some serious power, my friends. They are a lesson in miracles. And they connect us to an ancient ~ or perhaps timeless ~ intelligence.
They serve as bridges across space and time. Just as that memory of ingesting that box of sprouts, now over 40 years ago, lives in me still to this day.
