Shun (旬): Sustainable Seasonal Eating
- Eiten
- Jun 19
- 9 min read
Updated: Jul 7
If I were to express modern life in a single word, it would be convenience. That word, coupled with the pervasive fixation on efficiency—streamlining processes, reducing friction, and boosting output—seem to be the hallmarks of the world we live in. Whether the task at hand is work or working out, there is an app and a hack for that, promising twice the results in half the time.
The home kitchen is no exception. Meal prep services such as Blue Apron eliminate the need to shop and think in one fell swoop, providing ingredients and an easy-to-follow set of recipes in a tidy little box that gets dropped on your doorstep. Taking it a step further, services such as Tavola even do the cooking. Buy their oven, scan the barcode on the pre-packaged food, pop it in the oven, and wait.
And really who can be blamed for not wanting to go to the supermarket these days. Tomatoes in January, pineapples from Hawaii shipped anywhere there is demand, and unblemished and flavorless berries from Chile are now year-round staples at the local grocery store. But at what cost have we allowed this to happen?
The staggering number of options leave us feeling uninspired and overwhelmed. Not to mention malnourished, given the increasingly poor nutritional value that is the direct result of a broken food system that seems solely focused on convenience and efficiency as a means to increase profits. Consumer and environmental health be damned. The cost seems to be our physical and spiritual wellbeing. But there is hope, if we will only follow nature's cues.
At the heart of shōjin ryōri is shun (旬): following the natural rhythms of the seasons and eating what is available right here, right now. Being plant-based, this traditional Buddhist culinary practice teaches us not only how to eat, but what and when as well.
Shun provides immediate solutions to the modern plant-based dilemmas that people face, especially those just starting out: high food costs, meal fatigue, and the ecological anxiety of the hidden carbon footprint that comes with many of the foods available.
The Question: Abundance at What Cost?
Despite the abundance of food available—both in terms of the vast number of options and the quantity available—there is a shortage. It isn't a shortage of access, but of meaning. Understand that I am speaking of modern Western society here, as I am well aware that access for many elsewhere in the world is the primary issue.
Food has become a commodity, void of any associations to nature and community. It is little more that a commercial transaction. As such, several things occur, all of which compound the suffering:
Flavor and nutritional value decline. More and more food is being grown and sourced from outside our immediate environs. This creates a need to harvest early in order to ensure that food is able to endure extended hours needed to transport it from the field to the consumer. That coupled with the fact that many of the crops planted to feed the world since World War II were bred to produce higher yields and look more appealing to the eye. As a result the food available is increasingly less nutritious. I found a good overview of this over at the BBC.
Increased costs. The presence of asparagus in the winter and pineapples in Montpellier, Vermont is reason for pause. Food that is out of season and out of place is more costly. It requires artificial environments and long-haul transport to bring it to market. That all comes at a cost. A cost that is passed along to the consumer. Higher prices, less value.
Decision fatigue. It is nearly impossible to know where to begin when faced with so many options. This becomes increasingly difficult when much of what we have already tried has fallen flat for the two reasons just given. You don't want to eat it simply because it isn't good. Now where to start with the other three hundred options? This isn't an issue if we would only listen to nature and grow and eat seasonal, local food.
Disconnection increases. With every decision to accept what is on offer without question, the disconnect from the land, the farmers in our community who work it, and our own physical needs grows. We no longer know what the peak season for fresh berries is; we don't know what, if any, farms exist in our area; and we are at a loss for what our bodies crave, because when we eat food void of nutritional value, we just keep eating without satiety, on a never-ending quest for what is become increasingly rare: wholesome food.
Shun: Nature is the Answer
The Japanese term shun (旬) is often translated as season. That falls short of its true meaning and implications. More precisely, it is the exact moment when something is at the peak of flavor, freshness, and nutrition. The food is alive.
Eating in shun is the full acceptance, with humility and gratitude, that the earth provides. We simply need to say yes to what is naturally on offer, and know without question that the rest will take care of itself. It is a spiritual and ecological practice that requires us to slow down, pay careful attention, and honor impermanence and transience. Hard to do with the modern results-driven mindset that seems to demand often inconsequential activity over truly valuable output. The idea that doing less, and perhaps nothing at all, is the best course of action likely sounds foreign to many of you. I know at some point when I was making my way up through the culinary ranks it certainly did for me.
A lesson that I learned over the course of many meals in the food hall atop Mount Hiei was that our desire for something unnecessary is what stirs up feelings of lack and want, etc. We always had food, but at the beginning we also had preferences. Typically those preferences were for anything but the simple food that was available to us with no cost or effort on our part. Gradually it sank in that food was sustenance. It wasn't there to entertain us or satisfy a fabricated need or want, it was to provide the nutrients required by our bodies to keep doing the important stuff. It gave it context and meaning in the bigger picture.
The Daily Practice of Seasonal Eating: Awareness, Acceptance, Application
It isn't hard to bring this into our daily lives. There are three simple steps that need to be taken to reap the rewards of eating in shun.
Awareness: Know What’s In Season Locally
Put away your shopping list. You don't need it. You won't be infusing cereal into milk to add to your morning joe. In fact, as an aside, you should go ahead and delete your TikTok account. Though if you are reading this, chances are you don't have one and don't have any idea what I am referring to. That is good. Fewer obstacles to overcome.
I am going to assume that you know nothing and starting from scratch. The first thing that you need to do is head to a computer and do a quick search for a printable local seasonal produce calendar for wherever you are. The more hyperlocal the better. Print that out if you like or simply add the file to a notes app on your phone so that you can refer to it whenever you need to. Click here for an example from Boston, MA where I grew up. I recently visited there and was helping my mom do just this very exercise. Serendipity.
Exercise: List in hand, locate a local farmer's market, and go there as soon as possible. Bring a small notebook and take note of what on the list was available at that market on that weekend. These lists are broad, but visiting the local markets regularly is going to dial in your awareness of availability. Be open and curious. Remember, nature provides, so if it is there it is good for you. Buy some things, take them home, and eat them. How do they smell, feel, and taste? Write that down too. Be curious.
Acceptance: Let the Season Shape the Menu
Typically when we set out to cook dinner, we start with an idea. This is more often than not a recipe that then dictates a shopping list that we go out to the store to purchase, and then return home to start prepping the ingredients.
I want you to flip that on its head: start with the ingredients. Start with what's available. Let the market, the farmers, and the season decide what you are going to eat. Once you have the ingredients you can decide what to do with them.
The farmers may be sitting on a ton of asparagus at the height of the season. I know that typically in May/June when I was living in Boise, one of the farmers that I worked with couldn't harvest fast enough. When this happens, the price often goes down, and the farmers are happy to see the fruits of their labor not go to waste. It's a win-win.
What to do? Snap off the top end and steam them, then simply dress them with ponzu or olive oil and sea salt. You will have the lower parts of the stalk left over. You can cut off the bottom inch or two—the really fibrous part—and make asparagus stock. Then take the remaining bits and chop them up, cook them in oil, and add the stock. Blend that together and you have a spring asparagus soup. Now you have taken one ingredient, and yielded two dishes to be enjoyed over two separate meals or more.
In a matter of time you will have a repertoire of go-to recipes of your own, in addition to the ones that I share here, that will make this effortless and fun. Not to mention that you will be saving time and money as you learn to appreciate the full flavor, texture, and potential of a single ingredient. Shopping becomes a treasure hunt of sorts that reduces cost, waste, and overwhelm.
Application: Simple, Seasonal Meals
I hinted at it above, but you really will do your body and your wallet a favor by shunning complexity. Shun is all about clarity and simplicity. Ingredients are celebrated and expressed, rather than manipulated and disguised. Not that there is anything wrong with creativity at times, but when you train your palate to taste with a heightened awareness of the natural flavor of a strawberry in June, strawberry gazpacho is unnecessary.
When you arrive at this point, putting food on the table is no longer a chore, but a celebration of time and place. A bowl of steamed rice and barley, alongside a simple bowl of miso soup and a homemade pickle or piece of sliced fruit is balanced, satisfying, and limitlessly adaptable.
The anchor is the bowl of grains, and the other two dishes are blank canvases that allow for the spontaneity of letting the seasons dictate what's for dinner unfold without extraneous effort. There is no need for elevated technique. There is no "kitchen hack" required to bring joy to your table. Only mindfulness. Presence is all you need.
Beyond the Plate: Why Shun Matters
It doesn't just simplify your meal prep. The principle of shun has far-reaching impact from your state of mind to the environment. Eating in this way helps in many ways:
Less overwhelm. When we yield to nature and relinquish the decision making aspect of our meals to the seasons, it becomes more enjoyable and less stressful. Instead of running around frantically gathering ten ingredients for one component of our dinner, we can slow down and breathe. Shopping is now the simple matter of which one or two seasonal ingredients are at their peak. Buy those and enjoy.
More nourishment. Those ingredients at their peak are not just the source of our new found state of calm, they are the source of unrivaled nutrition. Remember that ingredients in shun are ingredients at the height of their flavor and nutritional value. Over time, you may well find you are saving even more as you discard unnecessary supplements in favor of the real thing.
No waste. As you gain experience, you will find more and more ways to utilize the various parts of the ingredients you bring home. The act of eating is an easily accessible way for each and every one of us to have a meaningful and immediate impact on the environment. Less will go into the compost pile. Find yourself a reputable and affordable dehydrator and you can effectively go zero-waste. We will cover this in more detail next week when we discuss ichibutsu zentai, which is the practice of fully utilizing ingredients.
Next Steps: Putting it into Practice
If this seems like a lot, start small. Go to the local farmer's market or wherever the best options are in your area, and pick just one ingredient. Prepare it simply. Taste it. Be present in the moment, ground yourself, and acknowledge what is inherently there. I have encouraged cooks in my kitchens to do this since I became a chef.
Before deciding what you think you want to do with a particular ingredient, treat it simply and let it speak. Your intentions will shift, if not change entirely.
When you let go of your fixed mindset, possibilities open up, and things just become easier. I will leave it at that. Words can't express, and teachers can't teach certain things. They just need to be experienced. This is one of them. Do this over and over. Week by week. Remain curious. Try new things. And don't be afraid to make mistakes. There aren't any.
Shōjin ryōri reminds us that eating isn't a task. It's a practice and a process of learning. There is never a better time to start than now. So what are you waiting for? Just start.
I would love to hear what you eat and learn along the way. Comment below or tag me on Instagram. In the next few weeks and months, I will begin sharing more and more recipes. Just a few more principles to cover so that you can take what I share and use it as intended: as a base and inspiration for your own journey.
Let's do this together. One dish, one meal, and one season at a time.
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