walking and seeing

last eggplants from garden, plus lavender ready to dryMother Nature is setting a contrary atmosphere to my thoughts. As I ponder the awareness awakened in life by slow pace, She pushes gale winds across the earth. The western woods jostle like ocean kelp beds at storm’s height; each tree’s core strength and flexibility demonstrates decades of give and take spent growing with the elements.

I’m thinking about our official first Pennsylvania walk, of last weekend. Twenty feet in Michael and I saw a peculiar looking walnut. “That’s a pear!” he shouted. Our necks snapped in anticipatory glee as we scanned the shrubbery above us. Indeed, emerging above the snarled oriental bittersweet and wild rose thorns, the tip of an old pear tree splayed plush fruits 15 feet above our heads. Having passed this plant cluster thirty times, clipping along between tall grasses, dogs running pell-mell, my eyes remained forward. Perhaps in anticipation of falling in the uneven field; more likely focusing on moving myself and the dogs away from a somewhat nearby road as quickly as possible.

This walking stuff is enlightening. Scrounging for decent pears, an odd breeze passed overhead bringing my eyes skyward once again. Small gusts rustled the treetops, but a dipping cluster of small black birds created the quick whoosh I heard. Later in the afternoon, a walnut come into close view. While looking hard at an odd berry bush, an orb flashed before my eyes, thudding decidedly onto the ground. Thanks to those minutae of time and space, my head continued un-pummelled and delightfully coherent for the remainder of the day.

This Wednesday morning glides routinely; having mixed together a sourdough starter two days ago, I continue the process. pic from the weekend walkOther bread-stuffs are on the docket, as well as those pears. This morning is one of my versions of efficiency; baking bread for the week ahead, as well as gifts for those who dine with us this evening. If this weekend walk created intimate introductions with flora, fauna and geography, heightening my sense of place, these mornings of bread and assorted culinary extras awakens me to the pleasures found in cooking for oneself and loved ones. The process reminds of me of walking; in following the hours of the dough’s development, awareness to detail grows, just as walking provided more detail than months worth of running in the same location.

There will always be a need for quick cooking, for meals gathered on the spot, and there will always be a need for speed while moving amid the hustle and bustle of life. But for this morning, I’ll relish the dough flow. I’ll let puppy Calhoun climb on my lap, terrified of the wind. And I’ll most certainly enjoy the pleasure of sharing the baked outcomes with friends.

farm-to-table dinners

Michael enjoys a bulging biteWell of course your dinner comes from farm to table. I just happen to really appreciate dining out on food delivered by the farmer directly to the chef, who prepares it deliciously for that day’s dinner. Yes, that day. At this time of writing, I am working off the delirium enduced by such a meal, held last night at the Stone Balloon Winehouse on Main street in Newark, Delaware.  I’ll note the dishes I enjoyed in this post so that the cooks amongst you may take second-hand inspiration from the creations of chef Jason Dietterick.

First, how did I find this particular evening’s meal? A petite flyer lay on the registers at the Newark Coop. Slow Food insignia enticed me to pick it up, and mention of heritage breed meats to be included in the meal intrigued me . For more information on what such meat is, take a look at the Ark of Taste project. And to find restaurants in your area putting on farm-to-table dinners, or sellers of foods listed in the Ark project, look at the Local Harvest web page.

On to the good stuff then, eh? Designed a-la carte style, the dishes were sized and priced quite reasonably ($7-14 for good-sized small plates; $16-29 for large entree plates). Choosing between lamb-stuffed sweet peppers and smoked squash soups proved difficult. Thus, I branched out into head cheese. Freshman farmer Andy Roddick, of Blackbird Heritage Farm, sat down for a quality chat as we ate this dish. Not quite as solid as I expected, Roddick explained that he had delivered the animal to the chef during the morning, and it was so fresh it had not set up yet. Not a problem! With some dishes in life, the differences are good based upon the story making them just so.

In fact, Roddick had delivered all of his items on the menu (comprising the vast majority of dishes offered) that morning. Chef Jason had a day’s notice about what would likely arrive, and quickly drew up a menu to print accordingly. No less than 23 from a different eve, accompanied yet again by stellar vinodistinct dishes were ready for diners. It was clear from conversation with the chef that he enjoyed the challenge (most restaurants have their menus scheduled and food stuffs ordered weeks if not months in advance). But further, Chef Jason clearly values fresh food and the ability to deliver an extraordinary experience to eaters. I’ll add my name to the restaurant mailing list to find out about farm dinners scheduled for  upcoming months (these events happen at the farms themselves).

The next dishes: As Roddick recounted tales of his first-year of farming, Michael and I dipped into sweet corn and thyme johnny cakes. Served over a black lentil salad and with a sweet pepper jam, this dish surprised me. The cake edges perfectly crispy, and the lentils a subtle backdrop, seasonings came out to play. Like all of his vegetables, the sweet corn in this dish was an heirloom variety. Typically hardier to disease and weather, heirlooms are nevertheless not grown all that often. Most seed varieties grown on large-scale farms these days are genetically engineered and/or treated throughout their lives with chemicals to obtain good performance levels. Small farmers like Roddick employ their own variety of business advantage by selecting heirloom varieties, establishing a unique quality and flavor for their foods.

En suite, a pork chop served atop pureed potatoes (definitely sweetened by the secret spice of chefs – sugar), large white runner beans and thin slices of roasted Kubocha squash. This last being naturally sweet, and with a dab of molasses?/maple syrup? in the beans, the pork pairings mimmicked more typical fruit compliments. Instead of apples and raisins, the fall beans and squash were extremely well suited; the pork proved succulent and just done, a tinge of fat invigorating each bite.

Two ’small’ and one ‘large’ plate into our bellies, alongside a bottle of pinot, Michael and I slapped the napkins on the table and settled back into our plush seats. It was time for a breather before, eek, driving home. Spirited talk reviewing the multiple local food dining experiences we’ve enjoyed of late accompanied the water now decking our table. We have often pondered what brings an awareness into one’s life regarding food, the enjoyment thereof and the accompanying decisions.

I am thrilled that Chef Jason has demonstrated the feasibility of bringing local, sustainably produced ingredients into a restaurant setting; declaring it just as economical in many regards as contracts with his other suppliers, the chef also realizes he is cooking in the ‘it’ moment. Offering local foodstuffs to one’s clientele is hip; major kudos to this chef who truly puts his knife where his words are, and employs staff who engage the public with the story.

in the slow row

Lynea butters some sorghum flour rolls, taking a blissful pause to appreciate the wonders of baking one's own breadWho knew one’s excitement to plant gardens can lead to a life in the fast lane? Eyes opening of every morning give way to breakfast, and onward bound in a short commute to the barn to pick up tools. Away I roll into the fields with only dogs and chickens to swerve around.  I’m calling it the new home/landowner speed trip; so excited I am to get a veggie garden in, and arrest the development of more invasive plants, I seem to have forgotten indoor life.

Just as others rush daily to fit in actual paid work, children’s schedules, errands and god forbid a doctor’s appointment, I’m recognizing the pace setting rhythm of working with the land to live with and from it. Which is exactly what landed me on the couch a couple nights ago, returnable-beer bottle in one hand, and Carlo Petrini’s Slow Food Nation text in the other. Thus another intriguing chapter in pondering about good life.

homemade sushi - a do-able meal that'll entice you to more cooking pleasures for the sheer fun of itAs the title indicates, Petrini describes an approach with life wherein people look around them with greater interest, and are receptive to the details and flavors of the world (pg. 183). “The contrast should not be between slowness and speed – slow versus fast,” he writes, “but rather between attention and distraction; slowness in fact, is not so much a question of duration as of an ability to distinguish and evaluate, with the propensity to cultivate pleasure, knowledge, and quality.”

I’m almost two generations shy from interacting with family members who held a knowledge of the land gleaned from extensive home gardening. Now, as my life path continues to branch into broader awareness of land usage and food production, I feel an urgency to do work on my own land in order to retrieve and cultivate the knowledge of generations. Knowledge which many of us are separated from. Here are some more words from Petrini to ponder. I enjoy sharing these writings as a window into how I am learning as I shovel along:

“Reappropriating the senses is the first step toward imagining a different system capable of respecting man as a worker of the land, as a producer, as a consumer of food and resources, and as a political and moral entity. To reappropriate one’s senses is to reappropriate one’s own life and to cooperate with others in creating a better world, where everyone has the right to pleasure and knowledge.” (pg. 99)

So today I’ll be cultivating my senses with some cracker baking and onion planting; I know I’m learning because the soil has begun to show it’s character to me, and the mysteries of yeast and wheat flour continue to reveal themselves in the kitchen.

a good life

Local cheeses raneth over during last night’s local foods potluck, which gathered area farmers and producers for a discussion on Buy Fresh, Buy Local marketing ideas. I’m looking forward to a ladies night at Claire’s for left-over devourings – I hear someone dropped off jams and other assorted items for her to taste and evaluate . . . glad to help.

Just pieces of the good life happening every moment in this particular Pennsylvania thicket. There are, of course, disturbances. Deer hunting (with guns) is open and blasting. I am afraid to go into the woods on trail runs due to what I perceive to be lack of ocular skill; multiple shots are required for each critter.

So after scraping out the chicken coop this afternoon and wheel-barrowing several loads of firewood over to a nuestra casa, I picked up quality reading piling up in my magazine bin: the November 24, 2008 issue of The New Yorker, which includes various writings on food (Texas BBQ written up by Calvin Trillin was amongst the best), and my first issue of Good magazine.

After licking my fingers clean of imaginary BBQ sauce heaven, I leafed through Good’s issue on the election. I subscribed to this magazine after reading about it in literature provided to me by Slow Food. Good gives 100 percent of one’s subscription payment to one of 10 organizations; I chose Slow Food of course. I have to say that my first issue has not blown my hair back, but in my interests of living a good life I’ll give it another shot.

Who knows? A good life only comes with each step of the way.

Terra Madre – mother earth’s taste for life

The bi-annual Terra Madre 2008 conference is going on now through October 27. It: “brings together food producers and workers from around the world, giving them the opportunity to discuss the major themes of food production. Together they share and compare the diverse and complex issues that underlie what “high-quality food” means to them: issues of environmental resources and planetary equilibrium, and aspects of taste, worker dignity, and consumer safety.”

Check in at their web site (linked in the above paragraph) for more coverage on this event, as well as world-wide info on people making a difference in their local agricultural traditions. This is one of my favorite web-sites!