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! :)

Bits and Pieces

Currently Reading: The Journals of Louisa May Alcott

Bits and pieces of the last two weeks:

Spring break came and went, which allowed me to find time to read and finish my third Classics Club book, Early Irish Myths and Sagas by Jeffrey Gantz and my fourth Alice Hoffman, The Third Angel. Myths and Sagas took me almost two months, despite its small size. I have read much of the early Irish literature before, and each time it is hard to get through. Not because it's boring or uninteresting, but because each story is thick with detail and description. It is tempting to skim these tales, letting my eyes flick over the lines of names and places that are mostly unpronounceable. But when I take time to notice and study them, the words and names become so beautiful. I practice sounding them out, checking with the Irish pronunciation guide at the front of the book and smiling with pride when I remember some of the more difficult ones from previous readings. The tales also expand and broaden under my eyes when I savor them slowly. Descriptions of Cu Chulaind's shield or the house Bricriu builds can be tedious, but I try to read them for the history they portray, as much as for the storylines. "The Exile of the Sons of Uisliu" is still my favorite, closely followed by "The Dream of Oengus." (Both tales were the basis of some great Irish Literary Revival works too; long ago, the discovery of Yeats' poem "The Song of Wandering Aengus" began my fascination with all things Irish.) Ever since we returned from Ireland last year, I find that in each Irish book I read, I can picture what I read so much clearer. I know what the Hill of Tara looks like; I can see the deep woods and the crashing ocean foam in my mind as the words take me back to a place I fell in love with, that lives in me still.

 

As for The Third Angel? Alice Hoffman continues to amaze me. I don't know how much more needs to be said.
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Easter weekend, filled with family and prayers and gratitude to God. Good Friday was everything it should be: solemn, tear-filled, hushed, holy. With each light that is extinguished in the sanctuary, I am shocked anew by the raw and the sacred of the night. I left exhausted, utterly spent by the sheer emotion of marking a sacrifice.
But this is what our church looked like Sunday morning. (Courtesy of Pastor Robert). I would say that a balloon-filled sanctuary is the epitome of Easter celebration and joy.


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I swept through Wanderlust by Elisabeth Eaves in only a few days, satisfying the traveling itch that has engulfed me with the first whispers of spring. At first I worried that, far from putting calamine lotion on the itch, it would only irritate it, making me long to leave and fly to new adventures. But the memoir was brutally honest, portraying the good and the bad of ceaseless travel in equal measures. Through the book, I relived the feelings I experienced in Ireland last May: the exhilarating, terrifying feeling of being a stranger among strangers; the awe of gazing upon beauty I could only have dreamed of; the self-consciousness that accompanies being dropped into a new culture; and the fulfillment of desires for adventure, culture, and knowledge. But Wanderlust did not shy away from the reality that constant movement is not always the answer; downfalls exist for those who can never find happiness in settling, who must always be moving in order to feel alive. And I was truly grateful, after reading it, that I am satisfied with the realities of schedules and routine, and that I don't have to be somewhere else to be fulfilled personally and creatively. The travel itch is still there but that calamine lotion felt good.
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Seed planting. With great trepidation, I might add. Spinach and two types of tomatoes. Since I've never started plants from seeds before, I'm nervous that I will inadvertently do something wrong; seeds and seedlings seem so fragile and every gardening website tells you something different to do. I feel so confident in the kitchen (most of the time) but I have no confidence in my gardening ability yet. But I'm glad I've tried- we'll see what becomes of it. Hobbes enjoyed himself that morning, watching over the plants and basking in the sunshine with them.



Wait until his cat grass starts to grow. He'll be ecstatic.
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Finally, some exciting news (for me) that I'm hesitant to share yet but will anyway because when something keeps you up all night with excitement, it's good to share it. I will be contributing a post from this blog on The Ladies' Literary Guide website; they contacted me yesterday about printing it on their site. (By the way, this website, which I was already familiar with, is truly fascinating for anyone interested in classic female writers. Definitely check it out.) Only in the past several months have I thought about spreading my writing beyond the borders of this blog, but it has still only been a thought in the back of my head until now. (Louisa May Alcott may have been an inspiration). I don't know what will come of it, but the excitement is there nevertheless, as well as further inspiration and desire to focus on my writing.

Happy Monday!