About Sebastian “Seb” Greenfield

Hi. I’m Seb.

I’m the guy who will happily talk to you about soil microbes while stirring a pot of stew. The one who brings homemade lentil salad to a cookout and somehow turns it into a conversation about regenerative agriculture. The one who believes your dinner plate is one of the most powerful tools you own.

I didn’t set out to become a sustainability nerd with a wooden spoon in his back pocket. I grew into it slowly—like a tomato plant leaning toward the sun.

I grew up loving the outdoors. Hiking trails were my playground, and somewhere between flipping rocks to look at quartz veins and learning how wind moves across ridgelines, I became fascinated by systems. Geological systems. Weather systems. Food systems. It turns out they’re all connected.

Years later, while studying environmental science and diving deep into renewable energy—wind turbines, solar arrays, grid resilience—I had a quiet but persistent realization: none of it matters if we don’t change how we live day to day. Policy is powerful. Technology is essential. But culture? Culture is what moves mountains.

And culture is shaped around tables.

Cooking became my gateway to climate action.

When I learned that food production accounts for a significant portion of global greenhouse gas emissions, it stopped being abstract. When I saw how much water it takes to produce certain foods compared to others, I started asking different questions at the grocery store. When I read that roughly a third of all food produced globally is wasted, I felt a mix of heartbreak and motivation.

So I started experimenting.

What if sustainability wasn’t restrictive?
What if climate-conscious meals were deeply satisfying?
What if the most nourishing thing on your plate also happened to be the most responsible?

Turns out, that’s not only possible—it’s delicious.

I built this blog around a simple idea: we can cook in ways that are joyful, grounded, and radically kind to the planet.

I believe in:

Seasonal produce that hasn’t traveled farther than you have this month.
Whole grains and legumes that support soil health as they grow.
Using the “ugly” vegetables.
Making friends with leftovers.
Homemade dressings over plastic bottles.
Cooking outside whenever possible.

I also believe in joy. Big, loud, messy joy.

Sustainability doesn’t have to feel like a lecture. It can taste like roasted sweet potatoes caramelizing in the oven. It can sound like chickpeas hitting a hot pan. It can feel like kneading dough while your favorite playlist hums in the background.

I’m deeply curious about the science of it all. Soil carbon sequestration. The albedo effect. The way legumes fix nitrogen. The way renewable energy grids are evolving to accommodate distributed solar. But at the end of the day, what I care about most is helping you feel empowered.

Basil—the van, not the herb—is my rolling reminder that life doesn’t have to be complicated to be rich. I’ve cooked stews at trailheads, tossed salads under alpine skies, and roasted vegetables in cast iron while wind turbines spun on distant hills. Being outside recalibrates me. It reminds me that the soil beneath my boots and the food in my bowl are part of the same story.

You don’t have to overhaul your life overnight.

You can:

Swap one meal a week to plant-forward.
Start composting.
Shop at a farmers’ market once a month.
Cook more than you order.
Waste a little less this week than you did last week.

Small shifts compound. Just like interest. Just like erosion shaping canyons. Just like a sourdough starter growing stronger every day.

This blog exists to make those shifts feel exciting rather than overwhelming.

Here, you’ll find recipes that are hearty and deeply satisfying. Stories from the trail. A little geology. A little renewable energy nerdery. A lot of vegetables. And playlists, always playlists—because cooking without music feels like hiking without a view.

If you’re here, you probably care about something bigger than dinner.

Pull up a chair.

You care about soil that stays fertile. Rivers that run clean. Farms that thrive. Communities that feel resilient. Food that tastes like it means something.

Let’s cook like the planet matters—because it does.

And let’s make it taste incredible. 🌿