Tomorrow's Problem

Seabirds screamed as they dive bombed the trawler that hauled in its heavy weighted nets filled with the target species of fish. The deck hands joked that Jesus must have been on board today as their catch had been so good that there was enough to satisfy the industrial freezers below deck and the birds who were desperate to share. The nets were directed to the catch holds and released into the on-board factory. That would keep the processors busy for a while. No sooner had the catch been released the bycatch started to be pumped out, there was no time to process the unwanted catch but it did keep those screaming seabirds well fed. A few massive pieces of Paragorgia coral were dumped over the side, that stuff damaged the nets and the deck hands often had to spend hours untangling it. Over the side went turtles, rays, sharks, and some seabirds who had got too impatient and been trapped when the nets were pulled in. Below decks the perfectly processed fillets were snap frozen to lock in that fresh sea goodness. Each one a testimony to extractive industry. They would end up on someone’s plate away from the stink of the diesel engines and the debris of the bycatch slowly dying with the ocean. What was unseen could be tomorrow’s problem.

The salad packers sorted through the greens running on the line in front of them. Harvested this morning they had been triple washed and needed to be packed and in cool store by this afternoon for shipping tonight. Time was of the essence so it would arrive in pristine condition as only the best of the harvest could go on the plate. Slightly wilted and damaged leaves did not get picked, they exited the end of the line into the composting bins. There was some solace in returning the rejected greens to nourish future growth. The picked salad leaves were precisely loaded into plastic bags by weight and then the bags were filled with modified atmospheric gas to keep them looking greener for longer. These pristine green morsels would end up on someone’s plate away from the stink of the chlorinated triple wash conveyer and the compost bins. What was unseen could be tomorrow’s problem.

Dairy cows have supplied the world with dairy products in increasing quantities since the first industrial revolution which mechanised the milking process. No more milk maids sitting on a stool to coax the milk from the udder of their family Jersey but instead large-scale operations with thousands of cows producing everything from milk to quark through all seasons. Along with milk and the multitude of various products it can be made in to, cows also produce much excrement. Excrement that is washed from cow sheds and into waterways producing an overgrowth of polluting bacteria that suffocates the delicately balanced eco system. The effects of the excrement are not seen near the production or consumption of dairy products so the pollution caused by that pat of butter slowly melting down the side of a perfect potato can be tomorrow’s problem.

The wine was expensive but absolutely worth it. From Argentina’s Uco Valley it was aged in French oak before being bottled in green glass and transported via various modes all the way to the cool store on the other side of the world before being poured into this glass – beads of condensation forming in the unseasonal heat and slipping down the stem. The water for the wine is sourced from an ancient spring and labour is cheap on those rocky slopes. The once in a hundred-year storm that wiped out the Uco Valley vineyards last year is the wine selection for tomorrow’s problem.

One of the best meals ever and it would have been cheap at half the price. ‘But what did it matter anyway?’ I thought as I tapped my credit card, paying that debt was tomorrow’s problem.

I had caught the fish that morning from the pier. It had taken a while and I think I fed many more fish than I caught, judging by how many times I had to bait my line. In the end I had stuck the rod in the metal holder and sat back in the Cape Cod Adirondack chair to gaze at the view. My eye lids had started to slide closed with the caress of the warm sun when I saw the bobbing of the rod. It’s bittersweet to see that marvelous flashing fish get reeled up through the water. I thank Tangaroa for the gift.

Whilst I had been fishing, Simon had picked up the bottle of wine from a producer just down the road and harvested the salad and potatoes from our garden. The cherry tomatoes were a revelation when we started growing them. We decided they somehow tasted like our summer childhood memories and when it got too cold for them to grow outside, we cultivated several tubs indoors. They did quite well in the bathroom and who didn’t want to pop a cherry tomato into their mouth fresh out of the shower?

Simon drew the line at milking a cow to get the cream for the butter, but the farm gate dispenser on the way home from picking up the wine provided that, just like it did every second day or so. The cream was thick out of the bottle and made the best butter with just a dash of sea salt thrown in.

We had prepared and cooked together while starting on that bottle of wine and then carried everything down to the Cape Cod Adirondack chairs at the end of the pier to eat and bask in the final rays of the day’s sun.

The only thing that was not perfect was the prospect of doing the dishes, but that could be tomorrow’s problem.