Garden to Table

Currently Reading: Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver and Notes from a Small Island by Bill Bryson

With summer comes an obsession with food that I cannot (and will not) ignore. I itch to tackle every farmer's market within a 50 mile radius, even driving long distances to wander past tents and feast my eyes on the abundance; I stare at vegetables and fruits, soaking in their colors; I make "Dear Santa" lists of new and different recipes I want to try, with a zest unmatched in the warmer months when shopping for food becomes a chore, rather than an adventure. Unless I'm in a rush, cooking is a delightful hobby, one that I really enjoy and take my time with. I love lifting the cover off my CrockPot to see firm yogurt where there was milk just 5 hours before. Cracking eggs is one of my favorite things to do. I could stand over a pot of butternut squash soup for hours, just smelling it. With my husband at my side, my kitchen becomes my playground. (He'll tell you this isn't true when I'm tired and cranky. He would be right.) Some of my favorite recipes lately: Tortellini with summer squash and peppers (thank you to my friend Joanna for that idea!); enchiladas; honey wheat bread; green bean and chicken salad; veggie fritatta; and zucchini muffins.

I don't label myself when it comes to food. I don't eat only organic, I'm not vegetarian or vegan, I'm not a pure locavore, and I don't abstain from gluten or dairy or anything else YahooNews tells us is bad for us this week. We eat less meat in our household than most people but we usually have at least one meat meal a week. We do stay away from highly processed food, as I choose to make it myself if I can. The yogurt, cereal, stock, beans, salad dressings, granola bars, dips, and doughs in our house are all made from scratch. (I hope to add more to this list as time goes on.) And I try to make all of our meals from scratch as well. No frozen or boxed dinners in my kitchen! So I suppose I am a "from scratch" kind of foodie, reclaiming food production as much as possible for a person without a garden or greenhouse. (And believe me, I've already started planning those.) But these decisions are my own and are not necessarily the answer for everybody. Not everyone has the time, opportunity, or money to make the same food decisions and I respect that. And I know a lot of people who make even stricter, and better, food decisions than I do. We all do what is best for us. My least favorite thing is someone pushing their own lifestyle on me, so I refrain from doing the same. While food and how it's made is very important to me and my family, it's not always a priority for others. And that is just fine with me. The one thing I will always promote, however, is the farmer's market. Or as I like to call it: heaven-on-earth.


Source: Facebook.com

This morning, my mom, aunt, and I went to a local farmer's market, my first time to that particular one this year. I was giddy for days, in anticipation. While I usually hate to wake up before 7:00, if a farmer's market is the destination, there is no such thing as too early. The morning was perfect- a blend of blue sky and warm breeze that seems to be a special trademark of the Midwest. Music was already playing in the gazebo as we approached. The square was bustling and full- of flower stalls and craft tables, families enjoying a picnic on the lawn, the heavenly aroma of baked goods, produce of every shape and color, a multitude of dogs on leashes, the scent of homemade soap, and above it all, a sense of familiarity and community. It sounds too perfect to be true. But it's not. This is how grocery shopping should be.

Farmer's market people are like pet people- friendly, helpful, and talkative. I find myself chatting with vendors about the location of their farms, which library they go to, where the milk came from in that amazing block of feta cheese. I love to just wander past the stalls, imagining these vegetables and fruits in the soil only a few days before, trying to visualize where they grew and what they will taste like. I find myself inadvertently reflecting on the wonder of shopping locally and being more of an active part of the garden-to-table process. At the farmer's market and in my kitchen, I feel my healthiest, strong in body and soul, proud of where my money goes and excited about the new swag I bring home. Shopping at the farmer's market is the best therapy I know. Today, the therapy resulted in bags of summer squash, swiss chard, bell peppers, red leaf lettuce, corn on the cob, eggplant, and feta cheese. And Mom scored some fantastic apple cider donuts- breakfast in the morning!



I've been feeding my food/cooking craze with Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, an inspirational read that serves as part gardening guide, part expose, part farming memoir; and some awesome cookbooks: Local Flavors by Deborah Madison; Make-Ahead Meals Made Healthy by Michele Borboa; and of course, my go-to cookbook Bible, The Homemade Pantry by Alana Chernila. New books I'm excited about: Michael Pollan's Second Nature: A Gardener's Education, Slow Food Nation by Carlo Petrini, and Real Food by Nina Planck. I have three weeks off from school and I have big plans. Making cheese (or at least ordering the ingredients.) Trying new vegetables (I'm looking at you, eggplant). Blanching fresh ears of corn. New types of bread. Oh yes. It is going to be a great month in my kitchen.

What do you love best about the farmer's market? Is there a particular food that gets you going? Do you have any recipes (or your favorite cookbooks) to share? I love more inspiration! :)

Summering

Currently Reading: Louisa May Alcott: An Intimate Anthology and Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver

It's been a summer of....

Women writers. Louisa May Alcott, Barbara Kingsolver, Virginia Woolf, Edith Wharton, Jane Austen, Anais Nin. Reading about them, learning about them. Gleaning a little inspiration.


Mrs. Dalloway has been my favorite so far. I read part of it while traveling on a train, which may have lent some extra charm to the experience. The book  left me breathless, exhausted and full. When I remember it, I still feel dizzy with pleasure.

Travel writers and travel plans.
Exactly three more weeks.

Cooking with the fresh stuff.




The colors slay me.

Sister time and family time.


I think this is one of the most beautiful pictures of Jenn I've ever seen or taken. It is all of her elegance, her calm, her depth- just in one picture. (P.S. She's not sleeping. She had no idea I took this.)

Home with Hobbes.



Someone got a harness and now loves to explore our balcony.

Visiting Nate at the museum. 

 

Animal loving.





Homework and tea.


This morning, with a little Irish news radio thrown in. It helps me feel like I'm back in Sixmilebridge.

Summering.




Happy weekend!

The History Room: My Favorite Day

Currently Reading: Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf and The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera

She walks into the Local History Room as many of them do- timid, unsure. She is about my age, with long blond hair and a pretty smile. Her eyes are uncertain. She talks quickly, with a nervous energy that tells me her story long before her words do. She is here for a reason. They always are. The books, the obituaries, the newspapers all pause in anticipation, wondering if they have her story, if they will be what she needs.

Her mother had been adopted, she explains to me breathlessly. They had just learned the name of her real grandmother and that she had been a high school senior here. They are trying to find her, they've just started their search, and would we have her old high school yearbook? She pauses, still unsure, now a bit afraid. I smile, trying to convey some sort of reassurance in a single glance before answering in the affirmative and grabbing the key to the yearbook cabinet. I find the one she needs and show her to a seat. The History Room waits, breathless. Thanking me, she pulls out her digital camera and begins turning pages. I leave her, returning to my desk to afford her some privacy. Ten minutes later, a sob bubbles into the History Room, filling every corner with its pain and its relief, asking to be heard. I hear. I turn, to see her bending over the page, her blond, wispy hair falling across the photograph of the grandmother she's never known. I go to her, touching her lightly on the shoulder. She turns to me, her eyes pleading, holding out the yearbook, no longer unsure but still afraid. In a voice as innocent as a child's: "This is the first time I've seen my grandmother." These are not the first tears shed here, as pieces come together and stories are rediscovered. She is not the first to cry here and she will not be the last. Without words, I put my arms around her and we stand quietly, crying together, creating a moment of fragile strength, a bond linking the past to the present, the living to the dead.

Sanctuary

Currently Reading: Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf and The House at the End of Hope Street by Menna Van Praag



Looking back over the books I've been reading lately, I start to sense a theme. Many are memoirs, many involve travel, and most lead me to more self-reflection and inspiration in my own life. After a bit of a hard winter, my perspective has shifted, brightened like the July sun, illuminating my life and my expectations by focusing not on what I want, but on who I want to be. Much of this has come from the books I have been reading, each one perfect for the inner growth spurt I feel I am having. Though very different, the books Have Mother, Will Travel by Clare and Mia Fontaine, and The House at the End of Hope Street by Menna Van Praag, speak similar words to me. In one, a mother and daughter travel the world, learning lessons about themselves in the places they end up. In another, three women find refuge from pain and hopelessness in a magical home that shelters and guides them. To me, both books depict a sense of refuge, of safety- whether finding oneself amid new vistas or in a safe, magical home, the protagonists learn to breathe, examine their lives and pick up the pieces. It left me realizing how important places of refuge are, both literally and figuratively, for it is often in the quiet and the apart where we finally hear ourselves, and can listen.

The idea of a sanctuary, of a safe place apart from life, has always beckoned me. I am drawn to the silent, to the peaceful. I meander through cemeteries, I sit in darkened churches, I crave the solitude of nature. In a way, books are also my sanctuary, cathedrals in my mind in which I can be alone but also be surrounded by myself and by the world. In Ireland, we spent almost every day exploring ancient monasteries, their ruins one with the ground and the trees and the water that envelops it. At each, a sense of rightness, of belonging, filled me. There, in the sacred and the quiet, where human creation becomes indistinguishably entwined with God's, I could hear myself more clearly than ever before. One day in particular stands out, alone with Nathan on a stretch of Inishmurray Island, the island of Molaise's monks. On a day bright with blue and scudding clouds, I stared out to the sea, listening to the waves and the wind, and thought of nothing but where I was. No worries, no plans, no thoughts beyond gratitude. My mind, for the first time, was truly mine, uncluttered and free. That island filled my bones and it sustains me still. Closing my eyes, it is still my place of refuge, for though I change, it never will.

I need those places of sanctuary, but I also need to learn to carve one out inside of myself. After reading these books, I recognize how much more I want to reflect on my perspectives, my attitudes, and my expectations, how imperative it is for me to listen to that desire for refuge and quiet. I don't have to travel to faraway lands to hear myself; I don't even have to leave my living room. Wherever I am, I want to spend more time seeking out the quiet and stillness, listening to myself and learning from the soft voice that can only be heard when the mind is stilled.

Book Therapy: Carry On Warrior

Currently Reading: Without Reservations: The Travels of an Independent Woman by Alice Steinbach and The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan

Never underestimate the power of book therapy. After writing this post last week, I spotted a book sitting on the new shelf at work that was on my list but not on my "in-the-near-future" list. On a whim, I grabbed it, thinking it might be just the thing to heal me and give me some answers. Don't tell me God doesn't find a way to put the perfect book in our hands, right when we need it. He's done it for me before and He did it again.

I've been reading Glennon Melton's blog at Momastery.com for almost a year now. She is funny, witty, sharp, inspiring, and downright relatable. Her blog, unlike others I read, is not about sharing perfect pictures or adorably cute stories about her perfectly dressed kids. It's real and raw, a memoir of sorts, highlighting the beautiful and hilarious alongside the difficult and challenging. Her newly published book, Carry On Warrior, is all of that times twelve. She writes about herself, but in a way that makes you feel like she is writing about you. A former drug addict, alcoholic, and bulimic, Glennon found her healing in writing, in expressing the real and the honest, in being true to her own voice. Hers is a fresh voice, one I had heard in my own soul but not in many other places. But as I've found through the book and in connecting with readers through her blog, we all carry a similar but unique voice within ourselves.

Momastery and Carry On Warrior are like that, a place to go to understand that we are not alone, that we all struggle and mess up and have bad hair days. It's no judgment, it's acceptance, it's community. The words at the top of the blog's page says, "Momastery is where we practice living bigger, bolder, and truer on this earth. Where we remember what we already know: We can do hard things, Love wins, and We belong to each other." Holy amen. That is exactly how I want to live my life and my faith. Faith and living are not solitary endeavors. As both the book and the blog prove, when we accept others, when we share our problems and difficulties, connecting over the funny and the hard, when we all start admitting that we are not perfect, there is no more pressure. Because we realize we are all perfectly imperfect. We can concentrate on the real things in life, not the unimportant things. We can tell the truth about ourselves. We can open ourselves up to each other. We can be honest to the person we are. We don't have to pretend to be someone we're not. In a world where the pressure mounts daily to do everything just so, and to be a certain type of person, this book and Glennon's blog is a refreshing wake-up call. Life is about MORE. More than fitting into a mold or hiding who we are. Life is about finding our passions and being there for each other and teaching our kids about Love and finding the God inside ourselves and each other.

Some of my favorite essays in Carry On Warrior discuss faith and our responsibility toward others. Like me, Glennon holds some beliefs that would probably get us both thrown out of some Bible studies. We are hard-core Christians, and we define ourselves as such. But we also love gay people and believe they go to heaven too. We believe that all religions follow the true God, just in different ways. We believe following Jesus goes above and beyond following the Bible. Do you know how long I've wanted to write these beliefs but have been too scared to do so? I suppose I had good reason, since anytime I have ventured to voice my faith, I have been knocked down. By God-fearing family, no less. But guess what. I'm not hiding anymore. (Even if I'm a teensy bit nervous about posting everything I just wrote.) Reading Carry On Warrior, I realized I am not alone. And isn't that the biggest blessing of life, the biggest gift God can give us? He gave us each other. I loved Glennon's discussion of the meaning of Namaste, which Mother Teresa used to repeat to anyone she met. It means, "The divine spark in me recognizes and honors the divine spark in you." We all have God in us, baby. The God in us allows us to connect with the world, with the people around us, because God is in all of them too. In the last week alone, that sentence, that Namaste, has changed the way I react to people. In a good way, in the greatest way. I am still traveling down this faith-and-life journey of mine, but now I can see that I always will be. I will never have it "figured out." But that is something to embrace, not fix. I don't have a "life plan" but I do have a goal now, one that involves working on running into my life and not away from it. The feelings from last week aren't necessarily gone, but I feel less alone in those feelings than I did.

Carry On Warrior is rejuvenating. I want to stand on the highest peak I can find and shout out my heart, because this book reminded me that it is safe and wise and OK to do that. By sharing my heart and my thoughts with others, I could get burned. I could be judged. I have been before. But more likely, I will just find better, deeper connections with God and with other people. And that will be a glorious, holy thing.

If you decide to read it too, let me know. I'm dying to discuss this book.