from the French provenir, "to come from", means the origin, or the source, of something, or the history of the ownership or location of an object.

Every object my 2-year-old son owns has to come from someone or somewhere: “comes from Auntie Kate”, “comes from Granny”, “comes from shop”, “comes from garden”. He obsessively catalogues the origin of his food, toys and clothing.

He’s not the only one.

As mum, shopper and cook, I’m also interested in where my food’s coming from. Some things, we grow. Not too many at the moment, mind – while our back garden is a muddy building site, the vege patch is on the back burner. We do have a lemon glut, though. While I admired (and was inspired by) the Kingsolver-Hopp family’s year of food life documented in Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, we’re way too fond of bananas to become dedicated locavores. But I do prefer small local shops to the supermarket, and visit the farmers’ market when possible. If nothing else, it’s a more sociable, pleasurable way to shop.

I’m glad C shares my interest in food. That’s the provenance of food on the floor, I guess. Since C (now two), started eating we’ve shared fabulous adventures in food. I’ve been a bit hopeless about documenting them, but now, with C’s baby sister rapidly approaching her first food adventures, I hope to do better.