The farmer in the 'burbs.

It's official--I'm a farmer! In a shameless bit of self promotion, I thought I'd share an article about my heirloom plant company, Garden Delights, that's appearing in the most recent issue of Urban Farm magazine. Urban Farm is a great source of information for those of us with soil in our blood--but who have limited acreage. You, too, can play farmer--in your own backyard!

(Just don't tell your neighbors, especially if you plan to add chickens.)

Happy farming!

XO ~

Farmer Julie

Tales from an organic farm...

I blame Laura Ingalls Wilder. From second through fifth grade, I was obsessed with Little House on the Prairie. Seriously obsessed. I read the book series at least a dozen times. I waited for Michael Landon and Melissa Gilbert to appear on TV each week, Pa crying dramatically while Half-Pint saved the family farm and outwitted resident meanie, Nellie Oleson. I wore a dress and bonnet, created by my amazing Aunt Georgianna, who lived on a farm. Every summer, I'd visit her for two weeks. We shared a June 16 birthday. 

You think I'm kidding about my obsession?

Still—life happened. I grew up, discovered boys, went to college, and didn't think twice about farming. I worked in publishing, then PR and advertising, only getting my hands dirty when I planted some pansies on the weekend. Who knew that one day my Laura Ingalls obsession would resurface, and I'd make my living from seeds and soil? When I was taking authors to wine-laden dinners and staying at the Ritz-Carlton, I never dreamed I'd be digging in dirt.

So, I was surprised when I received a note from a distant family member recently, commenting on my business:

“I wanted to tell you how impressed I was to hear of your entrepreneurial endeavors.  Your choice didn't totally surprise me---I still remember the influence of Laura Ingalls in your young life---even down to your wardrobe!”
--Cousin Brenda

Well. I wish I had gone to Brenda for career counseling a long time ago.

Anyway...

When the opportunity arose to spend a day working on an organic farm, I jumped at the chance. What a fabulous way to bond with my daughter! What an amazing learning experience! Her first question:

“Will there be animals there?”

I told her, quite honestly, that I had no idea. I imagined there might be some chickens, but I couldn't promise her a barnyard filled with animals. Our purpose was to work on the farm, learn more about organic growing, eat an organic lunch, and help as needed.

Although a little worried about the organic, vegetarian lunch, Kristen agreed to go for the slight chance she might meet some new animal buddies.

Here's the thing about my girl: she loves nature. She loves animals.

She did not love Little House on the Prairie.

My saddest mothering moment occurred when I presented her with the series...and the books languished in her room. I mean—this girl is a reader. She flies through 700-page action-adventure books in a day or two. But poor Laura Ingalls Wilder...she was relegated to the bottom of the towering pile of to-be-read books, outranked by Harry Potter and The Guardians of Ga'Hoole. And, when Kristen finally read the most famous book of the series, instead of finding her in a blissed-out state of imagination, dreaming of bonnets and blind sisters, she blasely said, “It was alright.”

Alright?

Who was this alien child? Was she switched at birth?

I suppose this should have been a heads-up about our mother/daughter farm-day experience.

Organized by Greenville Organic Foods Organization (GOFO), a fantastic organization dedicated to promoting healthy growing and eating in the Upstate, the work day at Bio-Way Farm served as an opportunity for foodies, greenies, and wanna-be farmers to learn more about organic growing practices--while benefiting our host farmer with some free labor.

And we did labor. Whew.


GOFO organized the outing to Bio-Way Farm as part of its mission to educate the public about the benefits of eating organic foods, while raising awareness of sustainable agriculture and environmental conservation. To achieve these lofty goals, the Executive Director and founder, Viviane Trama, provides numerous outreach programs, such as the Grow Healthy Kids initiative, which organizes and supports organic school gardens, as well as educational opportunities to learn first-hand about the benefits of organic practices through “farm days.”

Located in Laurens County, South Carolina, Bio-Way Farm is a 120-acre certified organic farm that embraces permaculture principles--designing ecological human habitats and food production systems. Permaculture started with the belief that for people to feed themselves sustainably, we need to move away from reliance on industrialized agriculture, which is powered by fossil fuels and promotes monocultures of crops. Instead, permaculture stresses the value of working with the Earth in mutually beneficial relationships. For instance, rather than clear an overgrown field with traditional gas-powered machinery, install a herd of goats who will eat the brush and foliage, while also fertilizing the ground for future crops. Agriculturalists traditionally exploit soil, plants and animals, which leads to diseases, soil erosion, pollution from fertilizers, and even illnesses from factory farms, as witnessed in our recent egg recall. Permaculturalists practice agriculture by looking forward, maintaining the health of the land—and our food systems.

Apparently, I'm not the only person excited about sustainability. When Kristen and I arrived at the farm, there was already quite a crowd...19 in all. Kristen was the youngest, but there were two teenagers attending to earn school credit—but I'm pretty confident they had a good time regardless of why they signed up.

Viviane greeted our crew, outlining the day's events and introducing Chris Sermons, our host at Bio-Way Farms. Chris, his father and step-mother founded Bio-Way, planting 2000 asparagus crowns in 2004. In addition to fields of asparagus, they grow many varieties of seasonal produce, as well as fruit and berry crops. With 20 acres devoted to growing produce, the family strives to preserve biodiversity within its 100 acres of hardwood forest. They work to control exotic invasive plants while reintroducing native plants, which helps to restore wildlife habitats.

Surprisingly, the farm is worked by Chris. Just Chris.  And occasional volunteers. And sometimes, friends. Twenty acres, one full-time farmer.

I'm exhausted just thinking about it.

But their asparagus? Oh. My. Next spring, you definitely want to find them at the Greenville Farmer's Market or through Upstate Locally Grown. Even my kids ate their asparagus when I bought it last spring...without too many bad faces.

(OK. I lied. They made bad faces. But they complain about every vegetable I put in front of them. If anyone can tell me how to change this annoying phenomena, please let me know.)

Our goal for the farm day was to learn about sustainable growing while helping Chris get some work done. Win-win.

We were down to 18 workers. Kristen took off with the dog after about 15 minutes. No chickens, but the dog would do.

So much for my dreams of working the land with my girl.

Instead, I met an amazing assortment of farm hands: a retired dairy farmer married to a city girl; greenies who wanted to learn more about gardening; a young woman whose progressive employer has an organic garden for its employees; an herbalist with an adorable vegetarian son; a young man who thought farming might be his calling (but, quite honestly, I think he changed his mind after he realized the amount of work); and lovely, pleasant people just interested in better understanding sustainability.

After an attempt to divide us into work groups, which quickly dissipated into chaos, we headed to the field. Our tasks:

weeding...

preparing beds for seeding...

transplanting cool weather crops...

ditch digging (guess who did this?)...

 

building a compost bed...

and harvesting.

Have you ever seen a Jerusalem artichoke? Stay tuned for a recipe using these funky tubers.

I can honestly say that working in a field with strangers makes you instant friends. (Except for the farmer wanna-be who was still raking the same three feet of earth after I had dug an entire trench down the field. Really, he needs to rethink his career path.)

After rounding up my girl from the swing, we cleaned up a bit and headed inside for a gourmet organic lunch, prepared by Chef Heather Kalka.

Oh. My.

Have you noticed that I'm fixated with food recently? Maybe it's because we're in the midst of harvest season. Or maybe it's because there's just so much good food and I have no willpower.

Anyway, I'm not a vegetarian, but if I had Chef Heather to cook for me—I could be. Amazingly delicious, healthy treats—delicious eggplant spread, scrumptious gnocchi, adorable blueberry tarts...mmmm.

Kristen ate--

bread.

Yes. Just bread. And water.

It was a jailbird diet.

Yeesh.

After lunch, Kristen disappeared with the dog—and newly found cat—while we toured the farm. Chris showed us the acres of asparagus, a recently constructed greenhouse, the irrigation system, and my favorite—his experimental woodland garden. 
 

The woodland garden was fascinating, particularly since our property is forested. Kiwis, blueberries, pawpaws, herbs...it was amazing to see what Chris grows in the forest, with only dappled sunlight.  

My next venture? Mushrooms. And blueberry bushes throughout our forest.

As Chris wrapped up the tour in the area devoted to a native plants nursery, I heard a strange squeak and saw Kristen racing toward the black cat, Rosemary. As we watched, my darling daughter pried a baby field mouse out of the cat's mouth.

The rest of my farmer buddies now understood I was telling the truth about my daughter.

And her animal obsession.

Well, perhaps she's not going to be a farmer.

But maybe she's more like Half-Pint than I thought.

Sunchoke Gratin

Ingredients:

    * 1 pound sunchokes (Jerusalem artichokes)
    * Salt
    * An oven-to-table baking dish
    * Butter for smearing and dotting the baking dish
    * Black pepper, ground fresh from the mill
    * 1/4 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese

Preparation:
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit.

Peel the sunchokes and drop them in salted, boiling water. Cook until tender. Drain and cool. Cut into 1/2-inch slices.

Smear the bottom of a baking dish with butter, then place the sunchoke slices in it, arranging them so they overlap slightly. Sprinkle with salt, pepper, and the grated Parmesan, dot with butter and place the dish on the uppermost rack of the preheated oven. Bake until a light golden crust begins to form on top. Allow to settle for a few minutes out of the oven before serving.

Yield: 4 servings

I'm back...

Hi.

Remember me?

I feel a little like a teenager, who blew off her date--and then wanted him back.

(Not that I ever did that.)

This is awkward.

I'm sorry I abandoned you. You know it wasn't intentional, right?

See, this little thing called Life got in the way of my writing. I know you've probably imagined the worst. But no, we didn't buy an SUV, I didn't take a job at Monsanto, and we haven't lost our Greenpeace membership.

Did I mention that I'm sorry?

If I tell you a story, will you forgive me? It might help you understand why I've been absent lately.

~~~~~

Once upon a time, there was a girl/woman/mom who loved to garden. She loved to garden so much that she would dream of flowers. She would garden all day. She would garden at night—in the dark. On Mother's Day, while her friends visited spas, her wish was to plant the vegetable garden. In the rain.

Eventually, she realized her gardening habit had become an obsession. At about this same time, she also realized that soon her youngest child would be firmly ensconced in that lovely institution called kindergarten. Because she had no desire to return to her former life as a PR exec, she knew it was time to turn the obsession into something more. A business. A green business. A green gardening business.
 

Garden Delights.

The end.

~~~~~

Actually, there's a little more to it. Like:

• 130 varieties of heirloom tomato plants
• 35 varieties of heirloom pepper plants
• Dozens of herbs and assorted heirloom veggies
• 5,000 seedlings growing in the downstairs of our house
• A commitment to use only organic methods and sustainable resources, including all shipping supplies and potting materials
• Even the plant labels biodegrade in a home compost system

Oh. Did I mention that many of the plants I'm growing are in danger of extinction? And that through my business, I'm hoping to encourage a new generation of organic kitchen gardeners?

Then, of course, there's the marketing, selling, writing, tending, babying, nurturing, and general coddling that both the plants and the business required.

Oh. And the family. Yep, they had needs, too.

So, there it is. I abandoned my writing for a bit, but not my greenish ways. If anything, starting Garden Delights has been an enormous learning experience in finding fabulous renewable resources—and not settling for less. It's been crazy, hairy, frustrating, and delightful...and time-consuming.

I love it.

So, I hope you'll check in now and then, because I'd love to renew our green conversations. While I've been seeding and weeding, with my nose in fish emulsion fertilizer (nasty, good stuff)--what have you been up to? Learned any good environmental lessons lately? Have some tips to share? I'd love to hear!

Happy growing and greening!
XO

Julie

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...

Can You Supersize It?

Day 4 of the Official No Impact Experiment.

Today’s challenge: Food.

I love food.

I love local food. I adore the Farmer’s Market, the sense of community, talking with those dedicated folks who eschew the big bucks in lieu of a more meaningful life. People with amazing knowledge and tough jobs--sustaining our families with fresh, healthy, drug-hormone-pesticide-free food.

I grow heirloom vegetables. Take a look at one day’s harvest this summer:


I sell heirloom vegetable plants. I’m a composting, seed-obsessed former PR girl turned farmer-wanna be. So today’s challenge to eat locally was a piece of cake, right?

More like a Twinkie.

Here’s what the Adolfs ate today:

Breakfast:

• Farm-fresh, free-range organic eggs--the yolks for the dogs, the white for us. So far, so good.
• Biscuits. Before you nominate me for Mom-of-the-Year, you need to know--they were from a can. Pillsbury. I'm not sure how many miles those biscuits traveled, but they sure weren’t from around here. (“I know where my breakfast came from,” said Peter. “Our oven. How much more local can it be?” Ha, ha...what a funny guy.) I suppose we could have gone to Krispy Kreme, watched them make donuts, and eaten them “Hot and Ready Now.” Our breakfast would have been just as local, I suppose...maybe more so.
• Pear for Kristen. Not local, I’m sure--although it was from our local Publix.
• Diet Coke for me...yep, still haven’t kicked the habit, but I haven’t gone back to the wicked cans.

Lunches for Kids:

• Sliced cheddar cheese--nope, not local.
• Cookies...damn, there’s that Pillsbury again.
• Cheez-Its. Now, that’s healthy.
• Applesauce in a plastic cup for Kristen, mixed fruit for Michael.
• Not one bite of local food in those lunch boxes.

Lunch for Peter and Me:

• Wednesdays are our “lunch dates”--I work with him at our company in the a.m. while Mikey’s at preschool, then we go out for lunch. We really tried to find a restaurant serving local food. Really. Instead, we ate at a new Mediterranean place, Sahara. Nothing local there, but it was yummy. Lamb, hummus, rice...mmmmm.

Snack for kids:

• Leftover homemade apple pie made with (you guessed it) Pillsbury Crust. Fortunately, the apples originated at Nivens’ Apple Farm, only about 10 minutes from our house. Whew.

Dinner

• Fuddrucker’s.
• Yes, you read that right--big, fat, greasy cheeseburgers, hotdog for Mikey, chicken tenders for Kristen. Fries for all.

Oh.

What happened?

Just this week, I bragged about my homemade pesto created from the last of our basil. I’ve made three batches of tomato sauce from our more than 80 heirloom tomato plants. I shop at the Farmer’s Market. I search out local producers, we pick berries and freeze them, I drive to Woodruff for free-range chicken and eggs, I own a food mill, for goodness sakes! How did we screw up so badly today?

Here’s my epiphany:

It’s hard work to eat locally.

I hate to admit it, but it’s true. You need to get your butt out of bed on Saturday mornings to visit the Farmer’s Market. You must learn to cook seasonal food--some of which might be outside your comfort zone. Did I know how to cook Thai eggplant before my farmer friend gave me some tips? Nope, I didn’t even know what that funky little veggie was.

If you’re not a vegetarian--and we’re omnivores at our house--you need to track down local providers of sustainably raised, humanely treated, drug-free meat...and not think too much about those chickens looking at you. You’ll also be shelling out more money for this food. The good news is--your local farmer actually gets to keep some of this money to reinvest in sustainable farming, rather than your money disappearing into the mega agri-corporations that shortchange farmers and hire lobbyists so they can continue to produce sub-par food.

Once you’ve gathered your produce and hunted for your meat--you’re still not done.

You have to cook it. You need to create a meal.

We are creatures of convenience. It’s become a necessity. Most families consist of dual career parents with kids that are scheduled to the max--schoolwork, soccer, ballet, piano, religion classes, baseball, football, volunteering...it’s a finely-oiled family machine that ensures everyone gets to their activities on time. Of course, it’s easier to eat at Fuddrucker’s after a busy day of work, piano lessons for two, horseback riding for one...especially when riding ends at 7 p.m. Should we head home (a 40-minute drive), start preparing a lovely, locally produced meal and feed the kids at 8:30 or 9 p.m...or cram some crap into them so they can get to bed at a decent time?

Well. You know our decision.

I’m not proud of us today. The thing is--I only work outside our home one morning per week. Sure, I have plenty of work with my heirloom plant business, but at least I’m home--where I can multitask, cooking local food while ordering seeds. I can get the family fed with healthful, local food and still get the kids in bed before midnight.

I have the time to hunt and gather.

Still, I remember too well the stress of working full-time and trying to feed a picky-eater. Tyler’s diet during those days consisted of hot dogs, Kraft Macaroni-and-Cheese (in various shapes for variety, like Pokemon), and chicken nuggets. Oh--and ketchup. Surprisingly, he turned out to be a pesto-eating, bruschetta-loving healthy young adult.

I suppose the point to this rambling is...

We’re having a do-over. Tomorrow. We’re going to eat locally if it kills us. As my faithful sidekick (aka husband) pointed out today, we’re taking part in the No Impact Experiment for a year, not just this week. Hopefully, Wednesdays will be our only blip in the local-food endeavor. Also, we’re just muddling through and trying our best.

Today wasn’t our best effort. But it’s life. We’ll be better tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow--I’m going to post some terrific local producers for you to check out. Some you can meet at the Hub-City Farmer’s Market, some you need to take a field-trip to find...but you’ll be glad you did! If you are ga-ga over certain local farmers, please share your faves here!

Until tomorrow,

Bon appetit!