Bella Gonshorovitz - Grow, Cook, Dye, Wear: From Seed to Style the Sustainable Way

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For Mr Sadiq

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The more clearly we can focus our attention on the wonders and realities of the universe about us, the less taste we shall have for destruction, writes Rachel Carson in Silent Spring . Building on this idea, Grow, Cook, Dye, Wear aims to inspire a more sustainable lifestyle. Its a journey from seed to crop, from harvest to plant-based cooking, utilizing food waste to create natural fabric dye for contemporary dressmaking. It explores a joyous process involving five crops: onion, nettle, rhubarb, blackberry and cabbage. In this story they are the lead characters, bringing to life a miniature circular economy. The aim here isnt for you to grow all of your vegetables, hand make all of your clothes, or even convert to a strict vegan die;, its about establishing a more intimate connection with nature and creativity, and finding a new perspective on mass-produced products. With clothes, as with vegetables, the end product is often presented in a manner detached from its origins and its too easy to forget that everything we eat, consume and wear comes from nature. This book encapsulates a process rooted in the soil and community that grows around it, and emphasizes the beauty of the journey and how it is reflected in the end result.

Introduction | Contents

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You temporarily inherit a garden or plot, and for the time its under your care, your choices shape not only your relationship with it, but also those of the growers that will follow you. When I got my plot in autumn 2018, it was completely overgrown: layers of couch grass and, underneath them, even thicker layers of bindweed and couch grass root systems; clouds of thorny bramble with stubborn roots, which I could barely get to the bottom of. Clearing it took months of daily digging, but it was an incredible education.

I found out quickly, for instance, that my plot used to serve as a nursery for schoolchildren, a place for them to learn about plants. Beneath the thick grass, I found a row of concrete slabs on which the children used to stand. Beneath those, I discovered an abundance of insect life and the most beautiful soil I have ever seen. The tenant who preceded the schoolchildren had a real passion for growing wildflowers, and he had invested a great deal in the soil. Ive been told his name was Jackson, a three-time widower. The plot was his sanctuary and he tended it until the very last years of his life.

I knew I wanted to grow organic before I started, but this became the only logical choice once I learnt the plots poignant history and began to understand the ecosystem already thriving in it. I realized that my work here is not only to grow my own but also to preserve and improve the plot, both for the wildlife and for the next grower. For this reason, I have so far resisted the urge to install raised beds, use shop-purchased topsoil, or use any pesticides. It is impossible to completely tidy the plot, and you constantly need to find creative eco-solutions for slugs or black flies, but you also learn to accept that this piece of land is as much theirs as it is yours.

I allow flowers to self-seed between my vegetables, finding beauty in the eclectic layout and sense in their ability to attract bees and butterflies. As I am still learning (I suspect I always will be), I try to understand why a particular crop will sometimes fail and sometimes thrive. No matter the ratio of success to failure, I always get a diverse and exciting harvest throughout the growing season. And even for someone who is used to creating from scratch making clothes, cooking, writing it fills me with immense pride to be self-sufficient in a way that works with, and not against, nature. The joy I get when a seedling Ive nursed since early winter finally starts bearing fruit has not yet gone I hope it never will! It is a magical thing, despite also being the most natural process in the world.

When I try to explain to anyone how growing things changes your perception of life, I always start with the fact that the most precious commodity for any gardener is horse manure. Huge piles of it are delivered to our site in irregular drops throughout the year, and the moment it arrives a race begins. All the plot owners rush with their wheelbarrows, fill them to capacity, drop them back at their plots, and repeat the process until the smelly, straw-lined matter is completely gone or their muscles fail them. I always find the gold rush for animal faeces humbling. Much like the cooking scraps I add to my compost heap, these horse droppings are usually considered to be the ultimate end of a cycle waste generated as a by-product of extracting nutrients from food consumed by humans and animals. Not only can we use this rubbish to create new plant life, but the fact that it nourishes insects and grows more food is inspiring. Its the best, most natural embodiment of a circular economy, something thats often perceived as an academic and lofty concept it isnt when you ground it in nature, where nothing ever really goes to waste.

Demystifying and personalizing circularity is one of the key objectives of this book, and for that, there is no better place to start than the soil. I was fortunate with mine crumbly, dark earth thats incredibly healthy and full of life: worms, woodlice and beautiful caterpillars. I have no doubt that Jackson was a tenacious manure racer, and much of my work is conserving the soil integrity he left me even such lovely soil has finite resources. As you grow vegetables, they draw their nutrients from the earth, so if you dont replenish them your land will soon be depleted, resulting in a poor harvest and disease. In addition to the rotted manure, I also keep a well-balanced compost heap, fed with food and dye scraps, plucked weeds, cardboard, dried leaves, and even scraps of organic cotton and linen (naturally these take longer to decompose). I also grow nitrogen-rich crops red clover and alfalfa which act as green manure, enriching the land as they wither.

Nettle tea is another DIY resource I use. Youll read about this disreputable plant and its often overlooked qualities later (see ). Nettle is seldom a plant one chooses to grow, but this is precisely why it is vital for me to include it (alongside blackberry, which can also be foraged). Having space, and indeed time, to grow things is a luxury: not everyone is lucky enough to have a plot, garden, or terrace. Having access to any of these things mustnt be a requirement for engaging in a meaningful relationship with nature, or the experience packed into this book. Nettle, as a colonizer in areas of human activity, has a way of reminding us that nature is shared between all its co-habitants. Learning to appreciate nettles made me feel closer to the land than any of the crops I have ever cultivated.