Saturday, May 18, 2013

Going Local (with Strawberries!)

For fellow book nerds out there, you know what I'm talking about when you just fall into the pages of a great book.  It's a full dive in, head first, and there isn't too much that can tear you away from it's grasp (not laundry, not the need for sleep, not your new Netflix rental, not even freshly baked cookies). 

I had a moment this week when I actually had to set my alarm to pull myself away from my current read:  Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by the fantastic Barbara Kingsolver.  My love of Kingsolver's novels goes back eight years to The Poisonwood Bible (which I chose to read right before living in Ghana for half a summer) and has been followed up with some of her other novels:  The Bean Trees, Animal Dreams, and now: Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.  This book, unlike my other Kingsolver novel-obsessions, is non-fiction.  It's about how Kingsolver, her husband, and their two daughters left Tucson for Appalachia, and turned their typical world of weekly grocery lists inward to their own struggles and joys of growing and raising food to feed their stomachs, as well as their relationships to each other and the world around them.

I'm not even halfway through and I feel like I've made some important and life-changing revelations.  Things that I knew to be true, but now actually feel true somewhere deep in my gut.  It was this feeling of epiphany on the importance of eating seasonally and locally that has cloaked my work here over the past week and a half: while tearing the garden lettuces for dinner and feeling their cool, crunchy leaves; slicing the onions into slivers of green and purple and white; cracking eggs that are brown, speckled, and even a light blue-gray into a mixing bowl (with only one hand, no less!), filling ice-cold glass bottles with milk from our cow, Chloe, and all the other countless kitchen preparations that deal with the gorgeous foods that are produced by our little farm.  I'm well-fed here because I am eating well, and I'm eating (for the most part) locally, seasonally, and amongst people who get it.

Speaking of getting it, I got into the strawberry patch yesterday and picked several cups of ripe, ruby berries and thanked my lucky stars.  As a kid I adored strawberries.  I would dream of sitting (quite literally) in a wooden barrel of strawberries, to munch away at my leisure.  My love for them had waned in the past few decades, (probably due to truck-ripened gargantuan strawberries, rather than sun-ripened little guys), but good news! I have re-discovered my love for these tiny jewels, and, thank goodness, it's a true love indeed.

 I love a strawberry patch.  Finding a perfect strawberry is practically a treasure hunt: lifting the big, shady leaves to find which ones are hiding the loot.  It's an adventurous way to go berry-picking, and (bonus) there's no thorns! This is what's a called a win-win situation, friends.

For my fellow farm-workers, I made this Strawberry Coffee Cake recipe (via Joy The Baker), and with a few changes (more butter and berries, of course), it's a keeper.  Please trust me on this.  The entire pan of coffee cake was gone within 20 minutes of the first slice.  Hooray!  My first coffee cake, with strawberries from the garden outside the kitchen window no less.  Perfection, I have found you.

Monday, May 6, 2013

Pesto Change-o

It's time to breathe deeply.

I still pinch myself every day with the decision I made to leave DC for a farm in Northern California.  And every single day, I am thankful that I did.

Broccoli.  It's actually little flowers! (Florets?)

It's not to say that I don't miss my life, mostly the people, from my good ol' hood in DC.  I do, terribly.  But being here just feels right.  It feels good to see mountains bordering the horizon and not buildings.  It feels good to see the stars at night and the occasional sunrise.  It feels good to hear wild turkeys calls and cow moos rather than sirens and cars honking.  Nothing is inherently wrong with city life, and relatively soon I'll probably be returning to some version of it, but for now, this break in nature is a settling one.


Farm days are by no means lazy, though it may seem like a dreamy idyll.  Standing up (rather than sitting down) all day, working with my hands, getting dirty, lifting things, working till 8/9 at night after starting early---these things are tiring, but at least balanced with mornings and sometimes the middles of the day spent reading, writing, doing yoga, meditating, or just splashing around in a river.  There's a balance that I'm slowly settling into, a little bit each day, and it is a damn good thing.

Collecting kale, chard, chives, parsley, and broccoli leaves for garden pesto

Another good thing:  all the food tips I'm learning!  For example, last week I made fresh egg pasta as well as a batch of oatmeal cookies with just-cracked walnuts from a tree by the kitchen.  Naturally, the only solution to all of these new things that were in front of me was to make a big ol' pasta dish with Walnut Pesto as a fancy Friday dinner treat.  HELLO, WORLD.

Fresh Garden Pesto with basil, kale, and parsley from the garden and walnuts from the tree?  I think I just went to heaven, but I know I'm somewhere in California.   Friends! Come visit me here!  Food is local and magical!

Garden pesto with homemade orecchiette pasta

Pesto in general is killer easy to make as long as you have a food processor or blender, and delicious enough to keep around to put on anything from veggies to meat to pasta, (plus it's so lovely and green to look at).  Your pesto-filled summer ahead is already thanking you, as are your friends. 

Also? The Legendary Boonville Beer Festival was this past weekend, put on by Anderson Valley Brewing Company, which was oh-so-fun and I saw an impressive amount of 80's clothes and neon tutus.  Did you know they speak a dialect in that area of Mendocino county called 'Boontling'??

It's true.  Wineries and breweries and boontling, oh my.  As the good people of Boonville like to say: Bahl hornin!