“But what about all that produce?”: Coloring with more crayons

So, I’ve heard what the talkers were talking, and the murmur has been formulating around, more or less, the same question–how can we possibly use all that food in just one week?  I’ve got a basket of answers, and some things for the reader to consider–a few questions that might lead you through a consideration of CSA life.

One. Do you tend to cook more or eat out more?  (This is the same question one farmer asked me while he was trying to determine whether I’d be a good candidate for CSA life)  I would even extend the question further: do you place a priority on cooking at home?  Also, are you adventurous enough to figure out what to do with overwhelming amounts of say, lettuce?  Are you willing to do this for the entirety of the summer, and into the fall?

The less than glamorous truth about eating locally [in every state] is that some weeks you open up the box and find abundant amounts of vegetables that you might not know what to do with, or that you never even thought you’d try.  Unlike what is available at most grocery stores, local produce is governed by local seasons, and that means that you don’t get peaches in your June share, or asparagus in your August share.  I’m sure it is somewhat shocking news to many in this contemporary age that all fruits and vegetables are not available at all times, even in the summer.  Hence, the realistic truth about eating locally: you must eat what the earth is giving.  My dad refers to this as feeling, intimately, the pulse of the earth.  You learn to live with the seasons.  It is a more simple way of life, and, in my opinion, often more satisfying.   

So, in Michigan, this means that sometimes most of what is in the weekly box is greens.  But, if you’re committed to cooking and trying new things, committed to the idea that maybe there are tasty recipes that include spinach, then you’re probably a good candidate for a CSA share.  And, you must be willing to put the time into actually cooking it, otherwise it goes to waste.  Another related question: will you be around for most of the summer?  It would be an oversight to buy into a summer’s worth of produce and then be on vacation for a quarter of the summer.

Two. How many people are in your family?  Do you like vegetables and fruit?  Would your family consider eating meals that are more vegetarian-oriented? 

It’s a good idea to check with the farmer of the CSA farm you’re considering to find out how many people a share would feed.  If you are a small family, feeling less than hopeful that you’d really use ”all that produce”, or even trying CSA life for the first time, you might consider splitting a share with another family.  We are a family of two, with one guest for the next sixth months, and I am fairly ambitious about cooking most nights of the week.  My husband is also willing to eat meals composed of greek salads and homemade foccacia bread.  When I tell people I made lettuce soup last week (remember all that lettuce I mentioned earlier?), they look at me a bit increduously, like I just insisted lettuce would make good soup…which, I did, actually.  Having the earth choose your weekly groceries means that you have to think harder about what you’re going to cook, and, if there are less people in your family, consciously think about how you can incorporate more vegetables and fruit into all your meals. 

Three.  Can you afford it? 

It’s prudent to budget all expenses.  I’d like to one day pay off my student loans, have my own farm, build my own bread baking oven, start my own market…and though I have no problem at all blowing through lots of money on fine foods–from smoked trout spread to microbrewed beer–I have these other goals for my money, and I appreciate that I share a bank account.  Also, the cost of buying a share of produce for a summer can seem daunting to many people.  Five hundred bucks for produce? 

It’s helpful to break down the total cost of the share over the amount of weeks that you’ll be getting it for.  $550/20 weeks equals just $27.5 dollars a week.  Is this what you would spend normally?  For the amount of food that you’re getting, are you actually getting a good deal?  What would the same amount of food cost at a store like Whole Foods?  From what I can tell from my own share, (only 2 weeks into it, currently), I do believe I’m getting a deal, actually getting organic produce more on the cheap than I would at the grocery store. 

Four.  Would you be willing to preserve it?  Do you have a place to store frozen food?  Would you actually eat the food after you’ve canned or frozen it?

From what I understand, a lot of people who buy CSA shares end up freezing or canning parts of what they get each week.  They do this because it’s hard to sometimes eat “all that produce” in one week.  For me, canning or freezing is just another way to extend my harvest, and make it possible to have this local produce last even longer.  My mom and I usually can peaches and tomatoes each summer, but it’s not an easy process. 

I see it as an adventure, but this is coming from the girl who likes to sit around and make homemade stock (with occasional trips out to gaze at the herb garden).  I told my Dad about the lettuce soup (which was delicious, by the way), and how I was really enjoying that for the first time in my life, I’m really considering vegetables, and doing many different things with them in my cooking.  He said, grinning over the phone, “You’re coloring with more colors than are usually in the crayon box, aren’t you?”  And it’s true.  Yet, beyond my personal adventures, I know that placing more of an emphasis on fruits and vegetables is good for our bodies, and good for the environment.  I love meat, but it’s just not sustainable to have it every night.

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Tuesday Night Bounty: meal #1

For weeks to come, I’m sure, the process of opening up my share box and pulling out its contents will be a highlight: it’s a bit like Christmas morning. I’ve even decided to delete the early emails that the farm sends listing each week’s contents and instead let myself be surprised–it’s much more exciting to reach my hand into the full box, and dip into the cool, ruffly heads of lettuce, guessing their variety and tastes. Or, be pleasantly surprised by not one, but two boxes of sweet Michigan strawberries (I ate half a box on the drive home, sandy berries and all).

We let ourselves be inspired by textures, smells, shapes. And then we cook: I had already decided to slow roast some baby-back ribs (and later finish them up on the grill) for our first bounty. As I was perusing recipes at Epicurious.com, I found one for Bourbon-glazed Baby Back Ribs that I decided to take a stab at. It was very, very good. I used Jim Bean Bourbon which, although a bit on the pricey end, Dave has been drinking plenty of, so I don’t have a bunch of “cooking” Bourbon just sitting around minding its business.

We also finished off one skillet full of southern style corn bread. This is a Better Homes and Gardens (New, 12th edition) recipe, from a cookbook which may be looked down upon in foodie-world, but it’s the best recipe I’ve found for corn bread (I’ve tried a handful). The main reason it’s a winner recipe: it comes out moist and doesn’t dry out real quick. A lot of corn breads I’ve tried taste nice, but they’re dry at the end. One technique that may make a difference in the moisture equation is melting, in the oven, 2 Tbs. or so of butter in the skillet you’re about to cook in. Then you pour the mixture in and bake. I do recommend this cookbook, especially for cooks just starting out or who like basic, Americana-inspired, accessible recipes. Their recipe for Bean & Pesto Bulgur is addicting (think hearty northern beans meets wheaty-fluffy bulgur meets pesto (Did I mention the sweet red pepper boats?).

DK prepared the salad–a combination of red-green leaf lettuce and the more mustardy-peppery purple lettuce from the Share–with a vinaigrette from just-bottled lemon-thyme infused white Balsamic vinegar (from the bountiful garden’s of DK’s dad, which DK tells me are pretty much bursting over with herbs), shallots, some Dijon-type mustard, and toasted walnuts.

It was a really good meal. We pulled out the fresh strawberries for dessert.

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2008 Share Contents pictures (weeks 1-20)

 

 
week 4

week 4

week 5

week 5

week 6

week 6

week 7

week 7

7week 2

 

week 2

 

 

week 1

week 1

 

 

week 3

week 3

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“It is quite impossible to overstate the dawn”

This quotation is from one of Justin Isherwood’s essays in Book of Plough: Essays on the Virtue of Farm, Family & the Rural Life.  We found his work while searching for the author of the line “Plowed ground smells of earthworms and empires” (also Isherwood).  It is with this eagerness–an eagerness brought on by the ground as it starts putting up sweet and we can again bury our hands in dirt (shall we also bury our hearts)– that I am drawn to write, to share with those who also may be pulled and pushed along by the veiny pulse of the seasons.

So we begin: With the ushering of summer, those of us that live in more Northern places are allowed one deep exhale, and we start to breathe as early as April. Now, it is early summer in Michigan.  I’ve put in most of the spring work that is involved in maintaining, indeed coaxing my suburban garden plot awake (at 26, I have the arthritic wrist to prove it, not to mention fresh lettuce).  And, we have also grown in our own way this year: We recently bought a share in a Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) cooperative with Maple Creek Farm, a certified organic farm in Yale, Michigan.  We have consciously made a decision to try and live off the more-local land.  In addition, we have made the first investment in one other CSA–Old Pine Farm, another local farm that will provide us with meat through October 2009.  I am cooking more, breathing more, reading more, and taking in.  I am watching the earth.   So I also start this more public journal–a place to record my observations of CSA life (and hopefully inspire and educate others on what its like to receive a bag of produce or meat each week), share seasonal recipes and thoughts about food, and muse on more general things related to a life steered by the seasons.  As far as credentials go, I’m just a girl, with a girl’s garden and a girl’s kitchen, trying to understand what it means to live and share a table with others in this world.  We’ve had our own piece of land for just under 3 years, and still figuring out how to best let it live.  Welcome!

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A New Begining

Ok, as afore mentioned, blogs suck.  Regardless, it has become evident that even my disdain for other blogs is not enough to compel me to crusade against them.  As such, a rebirth will occur.  Its actually quite Biblical.  ’For what I intended for evil, my wife will use for good.’  More specifically, Flog is no longer the anti-blog, but is now a venue where my wife can emote her foody musings.  Stay tuned as she documents a year of eating local food and whatever else pops up in that poetic brain of her.  She is telling me now that she thinks she is going to drop the name Flog.  I think it a branding mistake, but trying to talk marketing to a poet is like trying to talk poetry to a marketer.  Either way your screwed.  And by screwed I mean ass deep in an argument that will result is a drastic lack of screwing going on.

 

Shalom

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