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Sweat and Satisfaction


It is an almost universally acknowledged fact that a man in possession of an item of food  is in want of its origin. One can barely bring up the topic of last night’s dinner without someone bemoaning the fact that people don’t know where their food comes from. What they mean to highlight when they say this is the industrialization of our food system. By and large, not only do we no longer know the farmer who grew our food, we can’t even be exactly certain as to its continent of origin. And that’s true. A quick look around the produce aisle proves that most apples and garlic are from China, the asparagus is from Chile, and the raspberries are from God-knows-where. We could all get to know our food better, whether that means stopping by a farmer’s market or finally figuring out what’s killing the squash.

The bone I do wish to pick, however, is with the shallowness of the statement. “People don’t know where their food comes from,” is, at its core, a statement of geography. Nothing else. Concepts of terroir aside, we must recognize that food is more than geography.  There is more than a where, there is also a how. People don’t know how their food comes to them. They have no idea the kind of effort, skill, and knowledge that goes into growing food.

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Posted 13 years, 10 months ago at 6:25 am. Add a comment

The Squash Blossom Eaters


Oh. My. Goodness.
Now I understand.
People always get this crazy glint in their eyes when they talk about squash blossoms. And then they shake their heads sadly at me when they realize I am one of the uninitiated squash blossom eaters. Feeling like I was either missing out on a great snack or a great opportunity to make fun of foodies crazier than myself, I fried up some squash blossoms last night. And . . .
Oh. My. Goodness. Gracious.

What, you mean you’ve never eaten squash blossoms before? (Eyes widen in surprise while shaking head.)

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Posted 13 years, 10 months ago at 10:21 pm. 1 comment

It’s going around . . .

It must be contagious. Floating around in the air close to the school down the street from my house. Even though I don’t attend school anymore, it seems I am not immune from its touch. Call it what you will- ambition, drive, motivation, resolve- with the new school year starting, it’s going around. And I caught it.

The first Monday of a new school year is a good day to set goals, start a new habit, or otherwise turn over a new leaf. Like making the bed every morning or standing up straight. While good posture and neat habits are both good goals, I woke up today with a new (renewed?) zeal to update this blog more regularly. My interrupted Radish Challenge has been hard to recover from, but I am determined to shake it off. The new school year has always been a time of promise for me. As I filled out my school planners with assignments and class schedules, I dreamed of how organized and productive I was going to be. Even though, like I said, I haven’t been in school for years now, I seem to have caught a little bit of that old gusto.  So as the little kiddies step back onto the school bus, fill out their name tags, and remember not to cough on each other, I offer a toast to all of us setting new goals:

May the bus always stop for you, even if you’re not there to meet it.
May the tips of freshly sharpened pencils be at your back.
May the scent of a new box of crayons fill you with hope,
And distractions get left behind like lunchboxes.

Posted 13 years, 11 months ago at 10:09 am. 2 comments