Food for Thought #4: What Shapes How We Cook? On Seasonality, Regionality, Control & Choice
What if our cooking was guided by seasonal and regional food—not as a limitation, but as an invitation? This issue explores how cooking from a CSA share reshaped how we shop for groceries and cook.
Recently, I’ve been thinking even more than usual about seasonality and regionality (though I’m not sure if this is the correct English wording)—what it means to cook within the constraints of nature, time, and place, and why these ideas feel much more like an invitation than a restriction to me.
In my last Food for Thought essay, I explored taste as a bridge—a powerful tool that can guide us toward responsibility and more conscious food choices. Taste doesn’t exist in isolation. When fruits and vegetables are allowed to ripen naturally, in the conditions they evolved to thrive in, their flavours fully develop. A sun-ripened tomato at the height of summer, enjoyed fresh from farm to table, is incomparable to a pale, watery version harvested early to be transported hundreds (or even thousands) of kilometres before reaching the table.
Regionality plays a key role in taste—not only in terms of terroir (which is another interesting topic to explore), but in the simple fact that food is at its best when it doesn’t have to be picked before reaching full ripeness, endure long transport, or undergo artificial preservation methods. Of course, modern logistics have made it possible to move fresh produce across continents in a matter of hours, keeping it visually pristine. But does that mean it truly tastes the same? There’s a difference between freshness as a technical achievement and freshness as a product of nature’s rhythms.
I recently watched Omnivore1 with and by René Redzepi on Apple TV+, where I realised how extreme these transportation systems have become. One striking example: wild tuna harvested in southern Spain is flown to Japan within 24 hours, catering to the global demand for ultra-fresh ingredients. It’s a logistical marvel—but it also raises deeper questions. If we chase the freshest, best-tasting food from all over the world, are we truly experiencing taste in its most meaningful form? Or are we simply replicating a system of abundance that prioritises access over connection?
For me, taste at its best is about immediacy—about food that belongs to a time and a place. And that brings me to the next question: what happens when we allow our meals to be shaped by what’s available rather than by what we seek out?
Initially, I wanted to write a full Food for Thought essay about seasonality and regionality, but at the beginning of this week, I realised I hadn’t done enough research yet. My aim with these essays is not only to present my ideas and thoughts but also to weave them into literature and academic research on the topic—mostly to challenge myself to read more critically and with focus, and to get back into the kind of academic reading I once loved. But I still feel like I need to read more.
And so, I’m still reading, still questioning, still forming my thoughts. But I know exactly where this wish to collect my thoughts around this topic came from: our first-ever CSA share last year. Over the past year, I saw (and realised even more now that our CSA share is on winter break and we’re back to previous routines) how much this one decision—to get a CSA share—changed our grocery shopping and cooking.
For years, Saturday mornings at the farmers' market in Vienna’s Leopoldstadt were a ritual. It’s the one thing (besides a loaf of rye bread) that I miss most when travelling, as it feels like I’m missing a part of the year, a part of the season. And yes, by doing so, we naturally live, cook, and eat much more in tune with the seasons. Shopping at the farmers’ market means more than just buying food—it’s about knowing where your food comes from, meeting (at least some of) the people who grow it, and feeling connected to the rhythm of nature and the land. There’s something grounding about chatting with the same people week after week, hearing what they are telling other customers in front of you, learning about their harvest, and understanding the effort behind every vegetable, fruit, cheese, and loaf of bread (By now, you probably also know about my love affair with the organic Kittseer Holzofenbrot by Pierre Reboul of Ströck bakery, who also happens to be at the Karmelitermarkt almost every week.). It builds a sense of trust and community, making each purchase feel intentional rather than transactional. And it subtly guides you towards what’s in season, reinforcing a way of cooking that is both regional and attuned to time and place. But it still offers choice—you decide what to buy.
That’s why the CSA share was a fundamental shift. Suddenly, we weren’t choosing at all. In a way that was oddly freeing—at least, it felt that way for us. Instead of selecting ingredients based on a plan or a craving, we received a box filled with whatever was in season that week. No substitutions, no picking and choosing—just what the land had given at that particular moment. You take what’s there and cook with it.
For a long time, that was exactly why we hesitated to get a CSA share. I saw friends with CSA shares on Instagram, amazed by the incredible variety they received. But still, I hesitated. Would it be too challenging to receive this kind of “surprise” vegetable basket every week? Would we be able to cook all these vegetables deliciously, even if we were encountering some of them for the first time? What if we ended up wasting food because we didn’t know how to use certain ingredients? Would we feel overwhelmed rather than inspired? There was also the fear of losing control over meal planning—what if we got too much of one thing and not enough of another? And what if, despite all our good intentions, it just turned out to be too much effort?
In the beginning, it was challenging. The sheer volume of vegetables arriving each week felt like a race against time. But after a few weeks, we found our rhythm. Cooking became less about following recipes and more about responding to ingredients. We adapted. We discovered new flavours (cardy for example was an unexpected favourite). Yes, there were weeks of what felt like endless potatoes—but each one surprised us with more depth of flavour than we’d ever known. Yet somehow, we managed—and last summer was probably the most delicious summer we’ve ever had.
Being away for two weeks on holiday proved to be another challenge—who would take care of our precious veggies while we were away? Lots of friends we asked had the same hesitation we’d had before committing to the CSA: “Lovely that you ask, but I’m afraid it’s too many vegetables for us. So no, thank you.”
The biggest challenge came with our kitchen renovation and the fact that we didn’t have a working kitchen for weeks. We had to give up our share for six weeks in total. At this point, you might say: “Maybe 2024 wasn’t the best year to sign up for a CSA share if you had planned a major kitchen renovation.” Fair point.
So, to sum up our experience: we still need to find a way to solve some logistical challenges, but nevertheless, it was an amazing experience. The way we cooked shifted fundamentally. Instead of cooking from recipes, we cooked from ingredients. Instead of making shopping lists, we made meals based on what arrived in our kitchen. It wasn’t just seasonal—it was hyper-seasonal. It wasn’t just local—it was from a place we knew, from people we knew. It was organic by default. And more than anything, it forced a kind of creative flexibility that I hadn’t quite expected.
It made me think: How often do we believe we’re making choices when, in reality, our environment is shaping them for us? Supermarkets present an illusion of abundance, but they filter what’s available in a way that subtly shapes our desires and habits. Just think about the number of apple varieties available in a supermarket. Yes, they are available all year round—but only 8 to 10 varieties out of the 2,000 that exist in Austria2.
Even a farmers’ market creates a version of this illusion. I remember a conversation with a friend more than ten years ago who assumed that all produce at the farmers’ market was organic by default. But, of course, that’s not the case. While a farmers’ market is often more seasonal than a supermarket and brings many organic farmers into the city once a week, it still requires a discerning eye. Simply shopping there doesn’t guarantee that everything is local, seasonal, or sustainably grown. Even at our market in Vienna’s Leopoldstadt, many stalls offer imported, conventionally produced vegetables and fruits year-round. If you’re mindful, you can find the very best produce—grown nearby, in tune with the seasons, and often by people you come to know personally—but it takes awareness and intentional decision-making.
A CSA undoes some of that conditioning, handing control back to the rhythms of the land. But of course, a CSA isn’t for everyone. Not everyone can or wants to commit to one. And I completely understand—given our own challenges, from holiday breaks to an untimely kitchen renovation, there were moments when even we questioned whether it was the right fit. Still, I find myself thinking: What else shapes our cooking without us even realising it?
As always, I don’t have final answers, but I do have questions to explore and think about:
How much of what we cook is dictated by external choices or routines rather than by season and region?
How much of our decision-making is shaped by the constraints we accept—or refuse to accept?
If we remove choice, does it feel like a limitation—or does it spark more creativity in our cooking?
This is the starting point for my deeper dive into seasonality and regionality, and I’d love to hear your thoughts: What has shaped the way you cook? And how do you feel about letting the seasons and your region take the lead?
On the menu next:
Usually, I give you a date here for when to expect the next Food for Thought essay, but I realised that this creates quite a lot of pressure on my reading and thinking—and I don’t think it should be like that. So, I thought about not announcing a date here but instead letting it evolve naturally and bringing it straight to your inbox once my thoughts are ripe.
https://tv.apple.com/us/show/omnivore/umc.cmc.3m567dtk8qcawdjwnagsr1jbs
https://www.landschafftleben.at/lebensmittel/apfel
welcome to the club … community!