The (less than) $10, 5-minute Low Tunnel. Really!

Most of the time, I love living in South Carolina. Smiling Faces, Beautiful Places—it's a fairly apt slogan for our state. Of course, though, some of those smiling faces continue to fly the Confederate flag while circulating petitions to secede from the United States.

(News flash: that war is over, people.)

Still, while that kind of nonsense evokes my weekly rants and increased blood pressure, South Carolina's benefits outweigh the negatives. In less than an hour, we're in the mountains, hiking. In three hours, our toes squish in the sand of Isle of Palms. 

And of course, with our mild climate, I garden all winter...with a little effort.

 

Zone 7b, where we live, typically experiences the first frost around October 31. This year, we bought a little extra time, with our first frost making an appearance last week.

I was ready.

A little wire, a little plastic, some office supplies, and voila—instant low tunnels to protect the fall and winter crops.

Cost: less than $10. Time: 5 minutes.

Honestly, even the laziest of gardener (me) can't argue with the return on that investment. Eating heirloom lettuce, bok choy, kale, Swiss chard, cabbage and sweet peas from the garden all winter?

Yes, please.

Here's what you'll need to create your own mini tunnel:

1. One heavy weight, clear, plastic drop cloth, found in the painting supply section of your hardware store. Our raised beds are 4' x 10', so I purchased the 9' x 12' drop cloth, 2 mil thickness. Cost: $2.98
2. Two 10' masonry ladders. You'll find these in the concrete section of the big box stores. They may also be referred to as steel remesh, but the product you want actually looks like a small wire ladder. Ask the nice person at the store to cut the ladders in half so you'll have four, 5' ladders. Cost: $3.98
3. One box of large binder clips, 12 count. Cost: $2.99

Directions:

Beginning at the front of the raised bed or garden row, insert one end of the wire ladder into the soil several inches. Support the ladder as you bend it over the top of the bed so that it forms an arch, and insert the opposite end into the soil.

Repeat at equal intervals, with the last ladder placed at the end of the bed/row. You should have 4 small arches spaced equally in the bed.

Remove plastic cover from bag and unfold. Spread plastic over the supporting ladders, covering entire bed/row.

Use binder clips to attach plastic to ladder supports at the bottom of each ladder, near the soil line, to ensure that the bed or row is completely covered and plastic is secured.

Ta da! You're done!

And now, a...

WARNING:

Watch the temperature! It's not unusual for a frost to be followed by a 70 degree day in our garden. Make sure to remove the cover if you expect a warm day with temperatures in the 50s or above. You don't want to cook your veggies until you WANT to cook your veggies. Preferably not under plastic.

The best part of the system is that it's so easy to uncover—just unclip one side of the plastic, fold it over to the ground on the opposite side of the bed, and secure it with the clips to the ladder to prevent it from blowing in the wind. When frost threatens, cover the garden.

I love easy.

Now, if only I could find an easy way to ensure that South Carolina doesn't secede from the United States...

I'll keep you posted.

Until then, enjoy your extended harvests!

XO ~

Julie

Edible Dreams.

 For the past week, I've dreamt of gardens.

 

Elaborate gardens, formal gardens, lush mountain paradises, quirky artists' gardens, community gardens. A few of those dreams left me in a cold sweat, panicked about our own gardens—and the impending Carolina Farm Stewardship Association's Upstate Farm Tour that will feature our edible gardens this weekend.

After spending four days touring magnificent gardens during the Garden Bloggers' Fling in Asheville, I'm feeling a bit anxious about our gardens. First of all—we're not a farm. We live in a subdivision with a Homeowners' Association, on less than an acre. One of the reasons, though, that we're included on the farm tour is to show how a typical family living in suburbia can grow healthy, organic food in the backyard—or front yard. Or balcony. Or in containers. My goal is that everyone who visits us during the farm tour will be inspired to grow something edible this summer. (Or, perhaps Chicken Mama will convince them to add pet chickens to their lives.)

Still, while I know that the farm tour doesn't focus on pristine flower beds (ignore the weeds, please) or perfectly mulched paths (they aren't), I can't help but judge our gardens based on the four days of gorgeous landscapes I experienced in Asheville.

We don't have the staff of Biltmore to tame unruly perennials or to design perfect kitchen gardens. But then again, neither does Sunny Point Café.

One of my favorite stops on our tour, Sunny Point Café is the epitome of the farm-to-table movement—or, in its case, back lot garden-to-table.

As our group traipsed across the street from our bus to the Café, I barely contained my excitement. I knew of Sunny Point Café from reading reviews of area local food establishments, and a restaurant that fed guests from its own kitchen garden was high on my list of places to visit. Kindred spirits awaited, and I readied my Nikon to capture the café's organic spirit.

What the--? Full. My DS card was full.

Panic! What could I delete? How long did we have at this garden? Would I miss the experience by spending valuable minutes sorting through hundreds of images, deciding what to save and what to trash?

Then, a miracle—Family Dollar beckoned across the street, a glimmering ray of hope.

I sprinted away from the Bloggers, dodged traffic, and burst into the store like the madwoman I am. The lovely cashier led me to the aisle, where ONE DS card hung, as if fate decided to kindly throw me a bone for my poor planning.

Eight dollars later—and swearing that I will always carry a backup card everywhere I go—I rejoined the group.

And found an edible paradise.

OK, so maybe I'm overly excited about peas and kale.

Honestly, though, I was as delighted to talk with Melissa Metz, the garden manager, about the varieties of potatoes and peas she grows as many gardeners are to discuss the latest introductions of hybrid roses. We spent time chatting about the irrigation system, the compost, and a variety of purple peas she grew. 

(Purple peas? I've grown purple beans, but never purple peas. Must. Add.)

One of my challenges with our edible gardens is to make them not only functional but also aesthetically pleasing. Sunny Point Café's whimsical garden art added an attractive, warm, inviting atmosphere to the kitchen garden. Bright signage...

...cozy seating areas...

...and a friendly scarecrow-like mascot greeted garden guests.

Not only does Sunny Point Café provide homegrown produce for its guests, it also adopts environmentally friendly principles as part of its business model.

While we sampled biscotti and lemonade from the Café, I wished Sunny Point was our lunch destination. Although we didn't eat a meal at the Café, the snacks certainly enticed for a return visit. These are folks I'd love to break bread with while talking about heirloom tomatoes, fraise des bois, and crop rotation. 

Sexy stuff.

Still, Sunny Point Café served as an ideal, attainable garden. 

It's large--but not unmanageable. It's attractive without excessive fluff. It's inviting, warm, and the kind of place you'd like to settle in for a bit with a glass of lemonade to talk with other geeky edible gardeners who understand why it's so important to grow 80 varieties of heirloom tomatoes.

After all, not all gardeners want to debate the merits of the Florida Weave versus tomato cages.

Thinking about Sunny Point Café's garden, I checked on our own larger veggie garden tonight.

I have two more days to prepare for the Farm Tour.

I think we'll be ready.

(Just please, ignore the weeds.)

XO ~

Julie

Outstanding. (In the Field.)

I admit it. I get easily excited. My expectations about an event—whether it's a birthday, Christmas, vacation, outing—often build to colossal proportions. The problem with having huge expectations is—it can set the stage for disappointment.

So, when I read about a farm dinner in North Carolina, my husband was skeptical. Knowing how my enthusiasm takes flight, he envisioned an overpriced rustic meal, swatting mosquitoes while listening to pretentious foodies debate the merits of arugula versus mizuno. Meanwhile, I fantasized about bonding with farmers and talking tomatoes into the wee hours while sipping wine under the stars.

No amount of imagination could prepare us for our blissed-out reality.

The fantasy.
Outstanding in the Field (OITF) is a “roving culinary adventure,” to quote the website. Founded in 1999 by Californian Jim Denevan as a way to connect food lovers with food origins, the elaborate field dinners showcase and honor local farmers, growers, food artisans, and chefs.

Denevan is a dreamer—a chef, land artist, surfer, cowboy-hat-wearing showman. His dinners draw locavores in droves to dine with the folks who raise the meat, grow the tomatoes, bake the bread, and process the cheese. The ingredients for the dinner are local, and diners break bread with the bakers who prepared it.

Denevan and his crew travel the country via the OITF bus, with dinners originating each season in California, cruising their way across the country, then heading back to home base. In the 2010 season, OITF will host 68 dinners, with the majority of the events sold out.

Central to the experience is the long table. It stretches throughout fields, curves within coves, and serpentines through stalks. The long table awaits, outfitted in stark white cloth, spare and minimal to showcase the surroundings. And the food. Oh my. The food.

First...

After dropping the kids off at my sister's house, we raced two hours into Marshall, North Carolina, winding our way up mountains...and wondering how we'd survive our way down after a wine-laden meal. Passing pristine farms and those harboring an abundance of old tires in front yards, we followed the signs to East Fork Farm...waiting for the mountains to open up to farmland.

Of course, when you raise sheep, you don't really require a flat field. Instead, we parked and walked up a hilly road, where our chauffeur awaited.

There's something about a tractor ride that just makes people immediately friendly. Maybe it's the fact that you're basically sitting on a stranger's lap, or maybe it's the intertwining of arms around shoulders to brace for those rough bumps, hoping that your Secret Powder-fresh Scent holds out. Maybe it's the determination to have a great time, based of the price of the tickets. Whatever it is, we became buddies with our tractor-mates before the first sip of wine.

Surprisingly, especially for those of you who know us—we were among the first diners to arrive. Which provided ample opportunity to chat, drink, and start snacking.

Oh. My.

Our first little tasty treat originated a few feet from our gathering place. While we waited for all of the guests to arrive, we gathered in a field near a sheep-filled enclosure, which overlooked a smallish pond. Which had trout.

Which turned into smoked trout rillettes.

Oh. My.

We knew after that first bite my expectations were totally realistic.

The farm (and family).

Have you ever met someone and knew that if only you lived next door, that person would be your instant best friend? Have you ever looked at a child and thought how much she loves everything your own child adores? Did you ever just want to throw rational thinking into the pond with the trout and pick up and move?

Huh. I realize I sound a little stalker-ish.

Honestly, though, you would understand if you met the Robertson family. Stephen, Dawn, and their adorable girls welcomed us to their farm as if we were their dearest friends. Of course, there were 120 diners, so I suppose I'd have competition to be Dawn's new BFF.

East Fork Farm, the Robertson's home and livelihood, is located in the mountains of Madison County, NC, about 25 miles north of Asheville. The farm produces pasture-raised lamb, free-range poultry, rabbit (of which they are developing a prototype for a free-range environment,) and pond-raised trout.  All products are free from added hormones or antibiotics, and the farm is certified Animal Welfare Approved.

The Robertson's commitment to sustainable farming practices produces superior tasting, healthy meat products, while preserving and enhancing the ecological health of the farmland and water. For 13 years, the Robertsons have enjoyed a symbiotic relationship with the land—growing a family business while maintaining their commitment to treat the land with respect.

How can you not love these people?

Can't you imagine Kristen and this sweet pea being best friends?

The field.
After our farm tour (and several glasses of Alain Patriarche, Aligote, Bourgogne 2008), our hosts led us to the field.

The first sight of the long table, slightly curving through the field, sheep grazing on the hill behind, was breathtaking. Then, practicality set in, and I realized I needed to sit with my back to the lambs. Sorry, but I didn't think I could eat their brothers and/or sisters with them watching. I know, I know. Roll your eyes.

There is a lovely Tradition of the Plates at OITF dinners. Guests are asked to bring their own plates to the dinner, providing an eclectic mix of china and earthenware. The couple across the table from us stopped by an antique store and bought two plates. The woman's family had collected china by this particular American china manufacturer for three generations, and she delighted in telling me all about her collection.

Peter and I brought...nothing.

We forgot plates in our rush to grab blue blankey, Nintendo DSs, and books for the kids to take to their aunt's house.

No fear. The OITF crew provides extra plates for slackers like us. My plate reminded me of a grandmother's china...Peter's was decorated with seashells. Perfect.

Whew. I worried we might be eating off of non-sustainable Chinette.

The food.
Oh, the food. My words will never do it justice, and I fear the photographs won't, either. I wish you could smell and taste each dish and its wine pairing through your monitor...

Wild mushroom tart, mountain basil, mesclun greens, roasted beet vinaigrette, mixed organic radishes.
Jobard Chardonnay, Rully, Premier Cru 2007

Grilled leg of lamb, tomato jam, grilled corn, edamame and sweet pepper salad
Francois LeClerc, Pinot Noir
Gevrey-Chambertin Corbeaux, Premier Cru 2006


(Oops. I'm afraid I ate this dish before I could take a photo.)
Rabbit gumbo, okra, roasted fingerlings, rainbow Swiss chard, crispy Vidalia onions
Gabriel Billard, Pinot Noir, Pommard 2004

Cantaloupe cocktail, Cremant de Bourgogne, sourwood honey, fleur de sel

Bethany's blueberry, Bee's Knees pound cake, lemon crème fraiche

OITF works with a renown local chef in each dinner location, as well as local food artisans. Our brilliant chef, William Dissen from The Market Place restaurant in Asheville, is committed to local foods. As owner and Executive Chef of The Market Place, Dissen serves food produced and grown within a maximum 100-mile radius of Asheville.

Within that radius, our dinner included cheeses from Three Graces Dairy; Wake Robin Farm Breads; produce from Jake's Farm; meats from our hosts; and wines from France. Well, OK. That's a tad outside the 100 miles, but I'm not complaining.

Trust me. Pinot Noirs to die for.

The favorites.
Expectations? Check. Check. Check.

Truly, beyond the amazing food and wine, my favorite parts of the evening were all about the people. The connections. Chef Dissen brought along a fabulous staff who shared stories about each course—where it came from, how it was prepared, the special herbs used, the history of the wines. It was like dinner and storytime all wrapped into one.

The long table is actually a series of tables, and the meal is served family-style, with platters to share among eight guests. Just within our closest tables, three couples celebrated anniversaries: 29, 25, and 10. Peter's fear of foodie snobbery was (pretty much) unfounded, at least among our tablemates. The was no pretension, no attitude—just sheer pleasure of sharing a gorgeous meal and experience.

Denevan's desire to honor the local farmer through OITF is probably my favorite aspect of the evening. The OITF crew ushers the farmers and producers around the long table, introducing them to the diners and telling their stories. I talked heirlooms versus hybrids with the Missy from Jake's Farm while sipping wine under the stars.

Expectations? Check again.

The spontaneous applause for the growers, artisans, and chefs—as well as a sloppily orchestrated “wave” of cantaloupe cocktail glasses down the long table—proved that Denevan was on to something when he launched OITF. Farmers beamed. Growers glowed. Guests asked artisans for autographs. Sheep bleated, and we all erupted in applause when the wayward lamb caught up with the flock.

Outstanding in the field?

Yes. Yes, it was.

Food coma.

Wow. I have to admit--Thanksgiving dinner was delicious. Two days of prep work combined with weeks of obsessing about our local turkey resulted in a pretty darn scrumptious meal, if I do say so myself. Most importantly--no one ended up in the ER, although I did suffer one minor burn and almost impaled my foot with a carving knife...glad I still have some reflexes left in my aging body!

Here’s our star attraction...

...and our local apple pie...


...and our non-local, non-healthy Pilgrim hat cookies, just for fun.


I forgot to take a picture of the whole spread, but I think my sister did...so hopefully I’ll post that later.

We spent Black Friday pursuing non-commercial activities...I slept in (thank you, Peter), took a long walk, and then battled leaves for the rest of the day, tossing the kids into the piles, which they loved.

I just can’t start the holiday season fighting mobs, and honestly--I always feel sorry for the people who have to leave their families right after Thanksgiving dinner to work the midnight sales. Plus--I'm missing that “shopping-is-fun” gene. Thank God for the Internet.

Today, we’re planning to work on the foundation of the greenhouse...and I’m hoping to convince my darling hubby that it’s time to put up the outside Christmas decorations. We’ll see how persuasive I can be...

Hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving and are enjoying the long weekend with your family and friends!

Many Thanks.

For the past 12 hours, I’ve been in Thanksgiving Day prep mode. Honestly, with the exception of 15 minutes for lunch and about 45 minutes for dinner, this is the first time I’ve sat all day. I’m actually feeling pretty good about the amount of preparation accomplished today. Last year was the first Thanksgiving dinner that we hosted, and I was seriously stressed. My goal this year is to enjoy the process, and perhaps actually spend some time enjoying the day with my family. Please remind me of this goal tomorrow when I’m running around like a turkey sans head.

My goal of an entirely locally produced Thanksgiving meal isn’t going to be a reality, but I’m trying not to beat myself up about it. Here’s the menu for Thanksgiving dinner at Chez Adolf:

The Star:
20 pound organic, free range, drug-free, sustainably raised turkey from Live Oak Farms. I opted to try this brining thing that everyone recommends. The turkey is bathing in sea salt, rosemary (from our garden), thyme, and broth as I type, and here’s hoping it’s absorbing those spices and juices to create a yummy main dish. Please oh please don’t let me destroy the bird...

The Traditions:
Dressing, made to imitate my parents’ recipe, which they found on the back of a sage can. We still have the can, dated 1967. It’s a family heirloom. (No fear, I used fresh sage.) While not a local dish, it is delicious...toasted white bread, onions, celery, herbs galore...and the best part--giblets. I know you are now completely grossed out, but boy--they are good. You just can’t think about it when you eat them.

Cranberry sauce, Ocean Spray, canned. Sorry, but there are no local cranberries in South Carolina, plus canned cranberry sauce is Tyler’s favorite. Personally, I’m not a cranberry sauce girl...I just get it for everyone else.

Mashed potatoes...again, not local. These spuds hail from Idaho.

Sweet potato casserole. My sister, Becky, is bringing it. I know I could have found local sweet potatoes, but I’m embarrassed to admit--I’ve never cooked them before, except to microwave them to feed to the kids when they were toddlers.

Green bean casserole, courtesy of my sister, Marsha. Not local, but it’s always good. You know what I mean...can of soup, canned beans, water chestnuts, yum.


Waldorf salad. Whew--finally something with local ingredients. The apples come from Nivens Apple Orchard, which is about 10 minutes from our home. The grapes, walnuts, celery, and mayo...from Publix.

Garden salad. I’m hoping to harvest enough lettuce from our new potager in the backyard to serve a homegrown heirloom salad. We’ll see what the status is tomorrow.

Sweet Corn. Local corn from Beechwood Farms. I froze corn at the end of the summer, but I wish I had frozen more. Our supply is dwindling...but my dad always loved corn, so I’m planning to serve it in his memory.

Red cabbage with local apples. This is not a Thompson family tradition but a concession to Peter. He loves red cabbage. As a Swiss citizen,Thanksgiving is an acquired holiday for him...I started making something he really likes as a new family tradition.

Apple pie. Again, local apples, three varieties. Pie crust: Pillsbury. Shame on me. The egg white used on the pie crust for that shiny Martha Stewart look--local eggs from free range hens. The whipped cream is homemade but without local ingredients...I forgot to pick up cream at the farm.

Pecan pie, courtesy of Becky. Mom’s recipe. I looked for local pecans, but the two places I had time to visit didn’t have them. One farmer told me that every other year they have a good harvest--this wasn’t the year. Last year, they had 200 pounds of pecans.

Pilgrim hat cookies. OK, you serious locavores--you’ll probably hang me in effigy now as an hypocrite. Marshmallows dipped in melted chocolate, stuck on top of Keebler fudge striped cookies (striped side down), decorated with white Duncan Hines icing “buckles.” I know, I know...but my kids love them.

Wine. We have a couple varieties in bottles, but I did pick up a cask of the Black Box Merlot. It’s won lots of awards, and honestly--Peter and I sampled it last night. Pretty yummy. At least we have environmentally friendly wine!

So, although I wish we had incorporated more local ingredients and produce, at least we’ve maintained our traditions while still supporting local producers. Our experiment is about baby steps...trying to be a little better to the environment every day. I’m thankful my family is near so that we can celebrate together, and I’m thankful to our local farmers who worked so diligently to produce healthy, beautiful food...I just hope I don’t wreck it tomorrow!

Happy Thanksgiving to you all...may your turkey be tender, your potatoes without lumps, and your family healthy and well. I’ll let you know how everything turns out...please keep your fingers crossed that I don’t burn the bird!

Cheers!

Talking turkey.

Two weeks. Can you believe it’s almost time for Thanksgiving? I love Thanksgiving...I love the traditions, the enforced watching of the entire Macy’s Day Parade until Santa arrives. (I’ve been known to tear-up on more than one occasion.) I love making pilgrim hat cookies for the kids from marshmallows dipped in chocolate and stuck onto a chocolate cookie brim. I love sneaking bites of cold dressing, salmonella be damned. I love the pomp and circumstances of presenting the turkey and everyone getting “piecy bites,” as my dad called them, as the turkey is carved. I even remember to count my blessings on Thanksgiving, and I hope we’re teaching our kids gratitude, too.

Last year, though, was the first time I cooked a turkey. My parents always hosted us for holiday meals, working together to ensure their herd was properly stuffed. But when my mom’s Alzheimer’s progressed, my dad became the solo chef, with my sisters and me contributing side dishes. Still, the turkey was his domain.

Although my dad’s efforts were wonderful, he began to take risks with food. Not intentionally, of course, but he was getting older and forgetful, worrying about my mom. He would begin preparing food for our family’s Saturday night gatherings on Wednesday or Thursday. We would find food in his refrigerator that was long expired. Potatoes in the pantry turned to liquid. We were nervous about his health...and honestly, about our health, too.

So, to take the pressure off my dad and to ensure the well-being of our family, I cooked Thanksgiving dinner last year. I know that seems like an oxymoron, and I’m sure a few of my family members probably worried for their stomaches with me as head chef. Still, it was time. I was a little embarrassed that I had never cooked a turkey and decided that I needed to step up to the plate. I must say, with the exception of a mashed potato fiasco (ironic, as I usually make pretty good mashed potatoes), I was pretty proud of myself.

This year, I’m sad to say that there’s no battling my dad for control of Thanksgiving dinner. He died in May. Maybe we should have sucked it up and let him cook last year. He was always a much happier host than guest.

Now, I’m in a bit of a quandry. While I would love to prepare a locavore Thanksgiving, traditions are important, particularly this year. I’m not sure that my family is ready to eat Carolina rice instead of mashed potatoes and gravy. Instead, I’m again deciphering the photocopied recipes my mom gave to my sister, Marsha, when she prepared her first Thanksgiving meal. The recipes are faded, and I wish I could ask my mom why she and dad felt the need to get up at 7 a.m. to get that bird in the oven...when we never ate until 6 p.m. While I won’t get an answer from my mom, I’m glad that she’s still here.

Our Thanksgiving meal won’t be a complete showcase of local producers, but I am trying to add some local, green elements without banishing traditions. Today, we’ll focus on the star of the show:

The turkey.

In our effort to support our local farmers, I’ve ordered a local bird. He’s just down the road at Live Oak Farms (www.liveoakfarmsllc.com), awaiting his demise. I’m a little concerned, because we’ve always been a Butterball family. You should have seen my sisters’ faces when I told them that we’re eating an all natural, sustainable, pasture-raised turkey. I think Marsha’s afraid she’d be assigned to plucking duty. I can honestly say--if I needed to pluck a turkey, we’d be eating Butterball.

I’ve already had a nightmare about this turkey. I dreamed I forgot to pick it up and found myself racing through Publix, searching for a turkey on Thanksgiving Day at 4:30 p.m....and trying to thaw and cook it for a family dinner at 6. I think I’m getting a bit OCD about the turkey. Then, when talking with my friend Laura, who also ordered a local turkey (from Native Meats--www.nativemeats.com), I felt a panic attack surfacing when she mentioned brining. Brining? What have I gotten myself into? Do I need a back-up bird?

Truly, though, why does my family--including me--have such a phobia about a local, all natural turkey? Why is there such pressure for the perfect bird? I know it’s the centerpiece of the meal, the proverbial star attraction...but it’s not like we’re going to starve if I screw it up.

It’s a tricky issue, talking about mass-produced poultry when the holidays are around the corner. I’ve seen and read enough about industrialized poultry to permanently change my purchasing habits, but I’m not going to share the (horrifying) details here. The reality is--plenty of people will buy factory farmed turkeys, and I’m not going to be responsible for ruining your appetite. If you want to know what I’m talking about, check out www.farmsanctuary.org...but be warned.

The other issue is--I have no idea what kind of turkey I’ve reserved. I requested a 20+ pound turkey, and a turkey is a turkey is a turkey...right? Well, that’s true for the majority of turkeys--99 percent of turkeys raised in America are from a single breed--”Broadbreasted White.” These turkeys are produced because of their large, white, meaty breasts. Unfortunately, in our quest for lots of white meat, these poor birds are bred so top-heavy that they can’t fly nor reproduce naturally. Without the aid of humans performing artificial insemination, Broadbreasted White factory farmed turkeys would be extinct in one generation, according to the website www.sustainabletable.org.

I ordered a happy turkey, one that actually lived a nice life outside, scratching around for grubs, bugs and grasses instead of ingesting only grains and antibiotics...but I had no idea the various turkeys that are available when I placed my order. So, to save you some headaches in buying your own happy bird, here’s a cheat sheet for purchasing a turkey:

Conventional:
Think of the masses of turkeys at your local supermarket. These birds are factory farmed, raised in a facility that provides protection from predators and bad weather. Because of the crammed living quarters, factory farmed turkeys receive antibiotics to control diseases.

Conventional turkeys don’t have much of a turkey life--they’re inside for the duration. I promised, though...I’m not getting into the nitty gritty of their sad lives. I’ve definitely eaten my share of conventionally raised turkeys.

Organic:
USDA Certification is key for an organic turkey. The turkey must be raised on land that has been free of pesticides and other prohibited substances for three years. The food provided to the turkey must be pesticide free. For more information on organic rules and regulations, check out the www.usda.gov

Unfortunately, it’s tough for small farmers to receive organic certification. The same individuals who raised organic produce or meats before it became trendy now must compete with lobbyists representing industrial food manufacturers--who also crave the “organic” label to attract today’s green-savvy customer. Organic certification, when run by bureaucrats, is expensive and time consuming. Plus, the factory farms put pressure on the government to relax standards so they can meet the organic certification criteria.

Many small, organic farmers, who actually exceed the USDA organic standards, refuse to invest in the organic certification process. Instead, they promote themselves as “sustainable.” Sustainable is good. I would definitely buy food from a local sustainable farmer, because I know that’s code for organic, humane, environmentally responsible farming.

Heirloom:
You’ve heard of heirloom tomatoes...but heirloom turkeys? Heirloom turkeys’ ancestors pre-date the industrial food era and are important for genetic diversity. With the Broadbreasted White factory farmed turkeys, which are genetically identical, an illness could quickly spread through that breed and eliminate it. Heirloom turkeys’ diversity ensures the survival of the species.

The meat is also unique--firm texture, with light meat an “almond” color. These birds take longer to raise, and they are more expensive than conventionally raised turkeys. But--they also live a happy turkey life: they are raised outside, freely roam on pasture, reproduce naturally, and eat a varied, natural diet. Most heritage breeds are near extinction. Slow Foods USA (www.slowfoodsusa.org), an organization committed to supporting “good, clean, fair food,” works to increase the awareness of heritage breeds among consumers. It’s Economics 101: by increasing demand for heritage breeds, farmers will increase production of heritage breeds, thus ensuring their survival. Check out www.localharvest.org to find sources in your area for heritage breeds.

Pastured:
Turkeys are raised outside, ensuring they eat a natural diet. Their meat may be richer in omega oils because of their grass diet.

Free-range:
Be careful with the free-range label. Poultry with a free-range label means that the birds are not confined to cages, and the USDA requires they have access to the outdoors. However, as long as one small door provides access to a small dirt or gravel yard, rather than a pasture, these birds qualify as “free-range.” Many producers exceed the limited requirements--but read the labels or talk to your local provider.

Confused yet?

Who knew there are so many turkey options?

I ordered our turkey before I really thought too much about it. My goal was to support a local farmer, and I’m feeling good about that, at least. I’ve e-mailed Allison at Live Oak Farms to find out exactly what I ordered. I’m sure she and her husband will have a good laugh at my turkey trauma. I already e-mailed her a few days ago to find out the specifics...when to pick it up, will it be fresh or frozen? I also shared with her the story of my turkey nightmare--at least I provided her with a good laugh!

Where do you buy your turkey? Have you ever purchased from a local provider and if so, where? For those of you foodies--please tell me, what is brining??? I think I’d better Google that ASAP.

So, my feasting friends...tomorrow I’ll tackle something a little easier...local desserts. I think I can pull off a local dessert without breaking tradition.

Until tomorrow...

Gobble gobble...

One down, 11 to go...

It’s official--we’ve survived more than a month of our family’s eco-experiment! Here’s a quick review of the highs and lows from the month:

High:
Our increased commitment to composting and recycling reduced our trash production enormously. Previously, our family produced a 13-gallon bag of trash per day--at least--even though we recycled the obvious items like newspaper, plastic bottles, and Diet Coke cans. On average, we now produce approximately two trash bags per WEEK. We could seriously eliminate one trash pick up day, if that option is available.

Low:
While our trash heading to the landfill significantly decreased, we still produce lots of waste that needs to be recycled. While I consider that a better alternative, I’d like us to reduce our amount of waste overall so that we’re not contributing so much energy consumption for recycling.

High:
Eco-produce bags. Love them. Love the perplexed looks I get when the cashiers ring up my veggies and I can explain to anyone within ear shot about reducing plastic bags. I also feel less hypocritical when buying beautiful, organic produce at Farmer’s Market--we’ve basically eliminated plastic produce bags from our lives.

Low:
I’m consuming (i.e. produce bags, Sigg bottles) in order to become more environmentally friendly. Such an oxymoron...

High:
I’m learning to cook...and actually enjoy it, most of the time. I’ve always cooked the basics, but I resented it. I’ve fought hard to avoid becoming the stereotypical suburban ‘50s housewife, since I always aspired to greater things. We’ve spent a lot of time and money eating out. Honestly, though, what’s more important than feeding my family healthy (most of the time) food?

Now, I’m beginning to change my relationship with cooking. There’s a fabulous quote from Barbara Kingsolver’s memoir, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, the story of her family’s quest to eat locally for a year. Kingsolver visits a Lebanese market and begins a conversation with a cheesemaker about the techniques to produce Middle Eastern cheeses. The cheesemaker is puzzled by her interest, until Kingsolver admits to making cheese at home.

“‘You make cheese yourself,’ she repeatedly reverently. ‘You are a real housewife.’
“It has taken me decades to get here, but I took that as a compliment,” writes Kingsolver. Like Kingsolver, I’m beginning to value my inner domestic goddess.

Low:
Trying to find local foods at Whole Foods. During the official No-Impact Week challenge, we blew the challenge to eat locally. Well, we ate LOCALLY at Fuddrucker’s...but I don’t think, somehow, that was the intention. The next day, I was determined to prepare all of our meals from local food and providers. Unfortunately, I had missed Farmer’s Market the week prior, so off I ventured to Whole Foods, certain I’d find plenty of local options. $187 later, the only truly local food I found was zucchini, squash, and cucumbers. The meat options included “regional” foods that had traveled at least 3+ hours. If I was only after organic food, I would have been set...but finding organic and local was impossible.

I made sure to visit Farmer’s Market the following Saturday.

High:
I love supporting local growers and producers. Knowing the people who produce our food is a fabulous feeling. Plus, people who grow things, whether it’s cabbage, sunflowers, or sausage, are just nice people.

Low:
It takes planning to prepare a local meal. I’ve always been a convenience shopper. Out of lettuce? Run to Publix. Too tired to cook? Let’s go out. Now, I need to think about our meals. I can’t just run to the store for chicken. (Well, I CAN, I’m just trying not to.) I need to visit Native Meats at the Farmer’s Market or pre-order from them for delivery. (Which is an amazingly cool option they provide. Place an order for a certain dollar amount--I think about $45--and they’ll deliver your order to your home. Love it. www.nativemeats.com

My other issue is--I’m seduced by the beautiful produce grown by Parson’s Produce. I’ll stock up on three different eggplant varieties...then have no idea how to prepare them. Produce moldering in the refrigerator is not eco-friendly nor respectful--toward the person who grew it, toward my family for wasting money, and especially not toward people who don’t have enough to eat.

So--I’ve once again made a purchase: Eating Well in Season, a beautiful cookbook with delicious seasonal recipes. I’m hoping it helps me turn into Julia Child of the locavore movement.

High:
Great ideas for environmentally friendly Halloween treat bags.

Low:
Painting 35 recyclable paper bags orange. I don’t think I’ll pursue that fine idea next year.

High:
We are raising little environmentalists. Kristen and Michael both identify the recycling symbol on the bottom of containers. They remember to use the compost bowl for food scraps that aren’t meat (the dogs get those), they know not to throw out paper but to put it in the recycling container, and I’m even beginning to win the battle to get them to turn off the lights when they leave a room. Granted, they knew all of this before...but because we’re pursuing our project together, as a family, it’s turn into a game instead of a nagging chore.

Isn’t that the goal of becoming more environmentally responsible? We’re working to preserve the environment so Kristen, Michael, and Tyler’s kids will have the chance to enjoy hiking and playing in nature as much as our kids do...

I’m willing to learn to cook and haul away recycling if it means my grandkids have a chance to play in clean oceans.

Low:
There is no low.

OK, back to work! Let’s see what surprises the next month will have for us...

It’s the Green Pumpkin, Charlie Brown...part 2

Sometimes I amaze myself. In fact, I’m amazed that I didn’t foresee that I would be painting 35 treat bags this morning. I thought it would be a fun family project--until I remembered that we don’t have time for fun family projects on Wednesdays. We pick up Kristen at the bus stop, drive to piano lessons for both kids, race home, change clothes, and head out to the stables for her horseback riding lessons. We eat out at some non-organic, non-local-food place, like last week’s Fuddrucker’s fiasco. When we finally get home around 8 p.m., Kristen finishes homework, then baths for both kiddos, then reading...and finally, bedtime. There’s no time to paint environmentally-correct treat bags, unless I do it. So guess what I’ve been doing for the past 45 minutes? Sadly, I’ve only painted one side...now the bags need to dry so I can finish them later and stuff them tomorrow. ARGH.

I also amaze myself by assuming Kristen’s teacher would be really excited about an eco-friendly Halloween craft for the kids--without checking with her first. Her teacher was less than enthusiastic about a scarecrow invading her classroom. My friend reminded me that since our kids are now in third grade, gone are the days of elaborate parties and parental involvement. We can send snacks and the kids will have a game day--Kristen is very excited about taking her Nintendo DS.

Huh.

OK, sorry, enough of my ranting. I’m feeling a bit Kermit-like today--“it’s not easy being green.”

It’s interesting, though. When I started researching ideas for the greening of Halloween, I felt hypocritical. Let’s face it...I will never be the mom who hands out the following recommended treats, gathered from a variety of “green” websites:

• 100% Honey Sticks
• Dried veggie chips
• Organic agave sticks
• Or, my personal favorite--toothpaste. (A handout that will get you a smashed pumpkin for sure.)

I’ve already admitted my quandry...a compostable treat bag that’s filled with individually wrapped, non-local, non-organic candy. My friend Dana and I faced the same dilemma...we want to include some fun treats, but when checking out the plastic crap at Target...we both walked away. So, what are a mom’s alternatives?

Here, in no particular order, are some ideas for treat-bag fillers that will not relegate you to “weird” mom status (well, at least, I hope). I’ve included some websites and stores, and I’ve limited the items to things that won’t break the bank:

• Mood pencils with the message, “Happy Hallogreen!” Just like the rings, the pencil changes color depending on your “mood.” $8.50 for a pack of 25. www.RecyclingIsCool.com
• Fair Trade Milk Chocolate Spooky Balls--$4.99 for approximately 22 balls. www.naturalcandystore.com
• Tops created from recycled plastic.
• Pirate eye patch. www.orientaltrading.com
• Bead necklaces from recycled plastic.
• Worry Dolls. According to legend, Guatemalan children tell one worry to each doll when they go to bed at night and place the dolls under their pillow. In the morning, the dolls have taken away their worries. I stumbled upon this site, which offers a box of 6 worry dolls for $.60 or a colorful bag of 6 for $.45. www.worrydollswholesale.com
• 52 Tricks and Treats for Halloween--card deck, $6.95. Include one or two cards per treat bag. There are lots of other card deck options--look for question and answer type decks and divvy them up. www.barnesandnoble.com
• Friendship bracelets or hemp bracelets.
• Small coloring books or word searches made from recycled paper.
• Seed growing kit. Cute kits for $1 at Target.
• Individual popcorn bags. The paper bags can be recycled.
• Candy in boxes, like Junior Mints or Nerds. The boxes can be recycled.
• Mini boxes of raisins. Personally, I would have been annoyed to receive raisins when I was a kid, but they are good treats for the little goblins.

The last three items are also cost-effective for handing out to trick-or-treaters.

What else? What creative, eco-friendly fillers will you add to your treat bags? I’d love to know, so please share your ideas!

Now, what about in-class snacks? For Kristen’s class, I’m providing “Dirt Cupcakes”--you know, cupcakes with icing, dipped in crushed Oreo cookies for the “dirt” effect, with a gummy worm stuck in the middle. I know, I know--there’s nothing organic, local, or healthy about the cupcakes. Still, kids like them, I’m minimizing the trash output by baking them in paper cupcake liners, and I’m sending them in a reusable container. Plus, there’s that whole subliminal message about taking care of the Earth that goes along with the dirt cupcakes, right?!

Of course, it would be better to serve local apples...which can easily be dressed up with a healthy dose of caramel for party festivities. Yum. We’re definitely making caramel apples at home this weekend.

I can’t send in celery sticks or hand out dried veggie chips...it’s not in my nature. I want to be good to the environment, I do. I want to be a steward for healthful, local eating. Honestly. But I can’t sacrifice cupcakes. Or caramel apples. Everyone needs a little sugar on holidays, right? (OK, all anti-sugar readers...please don’t tar and feather me. Growing up, my friend Marie wasn’t allowed to eat any junk food at home. Know what she did? She came to my house and gorged on Hostess Ding Dongs and Cheetos. It’s all about moderation...unless someone has a serious health issue.)

Finally, for a small activity--since Kristen’s teacher doesn’t want anything elaborate--I’m sending a reusable jar filled with candy corn. The students can guess the number of pieces of candy in the jar, and whoever is closest to the correct number will win.

***ALERT ALERT ALERT ALERT***

Late-breaking development. Instead of game day, Kristen’s class is now watching Old Yeller during the party. What teacher thinks that Old Yeller is festive for a Halloween party? Kristen sobbed when she read the book, and with her animal obsession and soft-heart, I’m afraid she might be psychologically scarred--I know I was an emotional mess when I read the book many, many years ago.

To top it off...our puppy was hit by a car last Halloween. You have no idea the amount of emotional devastation that occurred for several months in our home. I’m not being dramatic--we were a mess. I was hoping we could just make it through this Halloween without a major relapse. Ack--what to do? Should I pull her out of school a little early? What’s your opinion?

OK, on that happy note...I’d better wrap it up for now. There are treat bags waiting to be painted, horses waiting to be ridden, and laundry moldering in the washing machine. Until next time...please share your green Halloween tips and ideas here. I can’t wait to hear how you’re going green for Halloween!

Tomorrow...we're going to talk about what to do with that pumpkin on November 1.