Jessie Gurunathan: Post-pandemic price rises have silver lining

Jessie Gurunathan has discovered the joy of growing her food. Photo / Stuart Munro

Fat, juicy chunks of Aunt Ruby’s german greens and black krim tomatoes, torn-up basil leaves, fresh buffalo mozzarella sprinkled with sea salt, cracked pepper and finished with a drizzle of olive oil and balsamic. Simple perfection. This was the taste of summer 2021 for me, and I’ve been fantasising about that explosive flavour combination ever since.

It sounds so wanky, but I’m now one of “those” annoying people who’ll tell you that you “simply haven’t lived until you’ve tasted your very own home-grown tomatoes”.

It’s Labour Weekend, which is traditionally when gardeners across the country prep and plant their tomatoes and other summer crops. My grandparents had incredible green thumbs, and they passed their gift on to my mum, who’s a terrific gardener. Every time I go home to visit for Christmas, her garden is like an outdoor supermarket, teeming full of fresh summer flavours and colour. It’s truly one of the highlights of the holiday season being able to pop out to Mum’s garden to pick and harvest her summer bounty.

Lettuce, tomatoes, and herbs for salads. Strawberries, raspberries and boysenberries, all sun-kissed and ready to be the crowning jewels atop the pavlova, corn freshly shucked and grilled on the barbecue and fat, juicy stone fruit picked straight off the tree and devoured. Mum says it brings her a tremendous amount of joy and satisfaction seeing us enjoy her literal labour of love. I adore exploring Mum’s garden, but the hard work aspect never really appealed to me and I used to think it was an awful lot of effort for something so fleeting.

Until this time last year, my gardening experience was pretty limited to growing a few herbs, kale and silverbeet. My partner and I have been meat-free and predominantly plant-based for nearly six years now, and fresh vegetables are the main star attraction on our dinner plates. It was a trip to the supermarket where I discovered a pack of unfashionable iceberg lettuce was priced at $6.

This was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me. I decided to try to save some money and attempt to start growing some backyard greens myself. I figured I’d start with a few basics like salad veges and a tomato plant. As I began researching how to get started, I quickly found myself down a rabbit hole. I blinked, and suddenly Bunnings and Mitre 10 became my new favourite haunts. I was hooked.

There really is something immensely satisfying about growing your own food, especially when you master the art of growing something that begins with a tiny seed and results in an abundant supply of free food. I wasn’t prepared for the other side effects that growing my own food would have on my mental health.

I’ve lived with clinical depression and anxiety for a very long time now and have had to take medication to help balance the chemicals in my brain. When I started to learn how to grow my own food, something shifted in me. Being outside with my hands in the dirt forced me to detach from a lot of the everyday life noise that can so easily be all-consuming and overwhelming. As a self-confessed tech addict who relies heavily on screen time for my line of work, an embarrassingly large portion of my days can be spent indoors on my phone and laptop.

My newfound passion for tending my “food garden” was the first time I didn’t have separation anxiety from my gadgets. I’m fully immersed in inspecting leaves for pests, watering, pruning, weeding, and feeding these plants that, in turn, thank me by providing me with the best-tasting produce. It’s humbling when a control freak like me discovers that in the garden nothing is predictable or promised, and you have to constantly compromise and adapt to all the surprises Mother Nature throws at you.

I wish it hadn’t taken a global pandemic and the rising cost of my weekly grocery bill to finally force me to learn how to grow some of my own fresh fruit and veges. We love a good silver lining, I suppose, and this summer I plan on having a bumper crop of heirloom tomatoes, served with a generous side helping of smug satisfaction and serotonin for good measure.