The Will to Locavore
First They Came for Your Feta
It’s not that I don’t have everything lined up to be the world’s greatest locavore. My wife works for one of the best area growers, Tomato Mountain Organic Farms. They supply us with a CSA box each week, and I mean each week, well I mean each week except each week that’s every other week during the winter, but it’s pretty much always seemed like each week, which means we always have plenty of local food in the Bungalow. And it’s not just the CSA box. Given that my wife is at markets three times a week, she’s there to pick up the first cukes of the season. Better, she knows all the ins and outs of the markets, and she has all the ins and outs with the sellers. So there’s 800 stalks of rhubarb to be had or pints of over-ripe strawberries to be stolen, she’s there to exploit. Beyond the luxury of an abundant stash, there’s the luxury of the Local Beet. I am the beneficiary of this site, creaky and outdated as it is. There’s Robert inspiring me with his farm tales and locavore news and Jeannie absolutely rocking out a Local Calendar that shames anything I could do. Cannot I. do my part.
Last we talked, I blamed it on Fresh Farms, the suburban store with too much good Greek cheese. See, once you’ve given in to dairy from outside the Big Ten Conference, anything could happen. I tried wretching myself back with a good Tamar-day, and a house full o’greens satisfied for a while. Yet, when that batch of cooking ended in our tummies, I did not do much to re-stock the menu. I entertain grand plans. Maybe a day by the grill where I would do my best Mallman imitation and seven fire some carrots, potatoes, asparagus, and scallions. That was the easier stuff. We have all these greens. There is no easy way to get greens from crop to table. They need to be washed and then washed maybe one more time because believe me, you’ll know if you don’t rinse them well. The chard takes snipping all the ends where the stems hit the ground. The kale needs its leaves separated. The bekana and baby bok choy and such need ideas on how to make them different. It is not throw together food. As I have said many times in the past, the biggest barrier to being a locavore is the time required, and half of that time, the schlepping to find local food, I don’t even have to do. There’s always the Condiment Queen.
There’s always room for pie. In between a week that found her working seven straight days, she said I will step up. Make something. Use something. I will have a stunning dish to accompany us as we visit some friends. If I cannot manage more than salads these days, she can always make room for pie. It tasted as good as it looked, strawberries, rhubarb and her butter crust she learned from watching Paula Haney.
I need the will to locavore. Or your prodding. I know I’ll enjoy the next Turkish breakfast I serve. I know I’ll be healthier when I have a fridge full of cooked greens. It will satisfy me in many, many ways to be a locavore. Why cannot I find my way.