dumpster diving in Tucson

This month, we will be in Arizona. I haven't been to Arizona since high school. We used to have family reunions every few years at a Dude Ranch outside of Tucson. I remember riding horse named after Native American tribes, eating at long wooden tables, stealing oranges from the trees, learning what an ocatillo is... but that seems so long ago.

This time, we are staying in Oro Valley, a town north of Tucson filled with northern transplants. There are admittedly a lot of practically identical stucco houses and strip malls, but those are made up for by the warm weather, mountain view, and rich dumpsters. Dumpsters? Yes, dumpsters. In Minneapolis last winter, Craig and I had great success dumpster diving outside of the local food co-op. We found enough good produce to make lemonade and a dumpster vegetable soup. We found packets of yogurt, and an entire flat of day-old pasteries. It felt like winning the lottery.












Last night, we drove to our gym to lift weights. On the way home, we cruised past promising businesses to check the accessibility of their waste disposal bins. Whole Foods, fenced in. Starbucks, gross. Bakery? Cha-ching! We snagged a loaf of fresh wheat bread, in pristine condition. We really struck it rich at Trader Joes, where we found the following, all unopened, all in nearly perfect condition: 7 bottles of Pinot Grigio, a giant bag of oranges, a bag of apples, frozen veggie burgers (2), sausages, and a packet of salmon, 2 bouquets of flowers, a wilting orchid plant, and a box of melba toast.













I know dumpster diving is gross to a lot of people, especially when it involves food. But there is a lot of good food that is thrown out, because it is un-sellable. Maybe they need to make room for a new shipment, or the ripeness level of the produce is just past its peak. Dented cans or torn boxes can't be sold. Sometimes it is a mystery. I think it's a good way to intercept food so that it is not wasted. It is free, and it is not being used. In some areas, food pantries and kitchens have convinced businesses to donate their imperfect food, instead of throwing it away. This is pretty much ideal. A lot of businesses, however, won't give away unsellable food, because of uncreative, inflexible policies and liability-fear. A second-best scenerio are the businesses that specifically package their food in separate bags from the real trash, in accessible dumpsters, knowing that homeless or low-income folks search the trash.













My life feels very rich right now. It is our third day in Tucson. If you look at the facts, it looks kind of pathetic I suppose: I am an unemployed 26-year old, residing in my boyfriend's parents house in the suburbs. I dig through the trash for flowers and wine. That's okay. Check out this dog: