Crying doesn't help.

I've been on the move again in the past week which definitely seems to be the more difficult hurdle when it comes to keeping vigilant about sourcing food.  We had a packed schedule filled with mostly driving.  Staying on track with my menu plan was impossible and when dinner is either take-out or a big family gathering, I have little if no control over the quality of the ingredients.  I may have been cooking but didn't do the shopping.  I may have been eating but didn't do the ordering.  If you were to ask, I'm not sure I could even remember what I ate this past weekend.  While it was all healthy enough in terms of nourishment - whether or not it was local, organic or even fresh - who knows?  It all made me a bit uneasy somehow - if not queasy.  Back home and back on track I feel better.  With the extensive planning and organizing I've already done, it was very easy to slide right back into ritual.  The only issue right now is my personal penchant for spontaneity.  It feels ho-hum somehow to plan every meal for a week and stick to it.  Where's the thrill of chaos at mealtime?  Where's the I-don't-care, throw caution to the wind reflex of culinary excitement?  Watching my cooking shows is great for inspiration as long as that inspiration is in season.  I'm finding it hard to wait for that season to come along.   I received an email from my CSA farm talking about what they've been planting and when things will become available.  Looks like June.  Geeeez - this time around Spring is beginning to feel longer than the warm sleepy summers when I was ten years old that felt as if they stretched out in front of you forever.  I've been thinking about all the bounty of the coming summer and I can hardly wait for all the food - as if I've been starving myself on what I can forage along the stream bed out back.  Truth is, I've filled in aplenty with items not considered local or in season because what else can I do until I've got a year of this under my belt and I've prepared for a long winter and spring?  I can't let my family perish like those early Pilgrims in Massachusetts.  Life intervenes and I needs must adjust.  Beating myself up about it will get me nowhere, "Crying doesn't help so might as well get on with it" is my mantra to my 8year old - time to eat my own words and just get on with it.  I figure my percentages of success have been pretty good if not smashing so I'm going to feel good about the process so far.  I've got a good structure in place for setting up success later in the year but at the moment I'm still grasping for that immediate gratification.  Breathe, settle in and stick to the plan.  That's me - for today anyway;)

It all comes full circle

Compost is a stinky situation.  I certainly despise the amount of waste we produce as a collective being, and I want to do my part to nurture the environment so starting to keep compost seemed a natural and logical step in both reducing the amount of waste I send to the dump as well as feeding my garden good, organic, homemade fuel.  The smell couldn't be any worse than that coming from the giant town distributed garbage tank sitting at the end of everyone's driveway on trash day.  What I wasn't prepared for was the smell and fruit flies in my kitchen from the canister kept on the counter for collecting scraps at mealtimes that would eventually end up in the compost bin.  Walking the scraps out to the bin after each meal seems a mountainous task at times - especially on the nights we are quickly forking down a delicious, slow cooked, local, organic, in season meal and trying to clear the table, clean the pots and pans, scoop up the remains, scraps, and whatever trash was left over all before rushing out to be on time for softball practice, or Tae Kwon Do or some other non-negotiable activity.  Even the simple act of walking the days scraps to the back yard becomes just another groan on the ever lengthy daily list of tasks.  If I could move it to the weekly to do list - that would be ideal but I don't want my kitchen turning as ripe as the lone banana now bark brown in the fruit bin.  Keeping this new routine alive requires reducing the number of tasks I must complete regularly, not adding to them!  My daily mantra of plan, shop, cook, clean, freeze was a good start - but needs some expanding.  The Little House cookbook has it's own organizational mantra (they call it a tradition) of Wash on Monday (I kinda do that instinctively anyway), Iron on Tuesday (ironing's not my thing (just ask my mother) so that opens up Tuesday - maybe I'll plug weeding in there), Mend on Wednesday (mending is sort of obsolete but I need Wednesdays for prepping Brownie meetings), Churn on Thursday (change churn to burn and make that a gym day ), Clean on Friday, Bake on Saturday (traditionally family day for us but I could include my 8 year old in the baking), Rest on Sunday.  Rest on Sunday??? That's it??   -  I need to schedule more downtime than that - and Sunday is the day I've been getting my schedule  and lists organized for the coming week.  I'll amend the Little House list a bit but that still doesn't help my compost dilemma.  As luck would have it, I was making a quick dash through Home Goods for specialty cupcake papers when I spied a nifty little bright green silicone bin labeled Scrap Collector and Freezer Compost Bin by Full Circle Home.  This cute little thing has a handle to hang on your drawer top when working at the counter for sliding scraps in - then fits perfectly on the freezer door for keeping those scraps until ready for the compost pile.  Eureka!  No more yucky, smelly mess - no more fruit flies!  Easy no hands - and I only take it out to the compost when the bin is full.  Best of all - I can put it in the dishwasher too.  Ahhh - ask the universe and you shall receive.  Problem solved - I love that.  Now, what to do with that overripe banana?

Rhubarb? Really?

Don't get me wrong - I have no intention of churning my own butter and I won't be trading my freezer for an icehouse, but there's something very romantic about simple, old fashioned food you've grown or created yourself.  Finding new ways to use basics and creating dishes with just a few ingredients so the "exotics" are minimal can come off as ordinary but then again, what's so wrong with ordinary if it's better than mass produced, boxed blah?  What was ordinary 100 years ago has become romantic, even exotic.  Even my favorite food network chefs are going back - either recreating the old with a modern flair - or just recreating the old - just served up as it was "wayback".  I've learned about ramps and rhubarb - considering an onion patch and feeding the growing mound of compost (or what my husband calls the stink that's on *@#!)  Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution painstakingly points out how far our generation has come from the earth -  painfully illustrating how much our kids don't know.  I watch his show "Jamie at Home" religiously because everything he cooks harkens back to a simpler age of pure ingredients and basic cookware.  There's nary a fancy word (except for letting the peas "pucker') or piece of cookware I don't already have.  His food jumps off the screen - or at least I wish it would - right onto my plate.  No fuss, no muss - just unbelievable goodness.  He's even proven to me that I can drink from my garden which in my last blog I considered impossible.  A rhubarb martini sounds like something my grandmother would have sipped - and made from leftovers no less!  I'll post the recipe below so come summer when we have all harvested our own rhubarb we can enjoy a little drinky dink together.

500g rhubarb, trimmed and chopped
• 100g sugar
juice of ½ an orange
• 2 shots of vodka
• ½ a shot of Galliano
• ½ a shot of double cream
• ½ a shot of milk
• a handful of ice cubes

Place the rhubarb, sugar and orange juice in a small pan and put the lid on. Simmer for a couple of minutes, then remove the lid and simmer for a few minutes more until you get a thick, compote consistency. Pour the rhubarb into a sieve over a bowl and let the liquid drip through. It’s this liquid you want (the rhubarb left in the sieve is lovely served with some custard).

Put the vodka, Galliano, cream, milk, ice cubes and 2 shots of the rhubarb liquid into a cocktail shaker and shake it about. Strain into two cocktail glasses.

Would you like some cheese with that whine?

I've done the Connecticut wine tour a couple of times on frosty fall days when the harvest is in and the grape leaves have turned beautiful shades of plum, ochre and sand.  Unfortunately the wine has never satisfied me as much as the scenery and the scene.  There are a few wineries that quite nicely replicate the Napa experience of cheese and hors d'oeurves on a deck in the crisp air overlooking the vineyard but while I love the atmosphere and the food, I would rather bring my own California cabernet (a few bottles if you please) to fill my glass and swill on my palate.  I'm assuming this would be gauche to the third degree.  Connecticut wine tastes like a tin can to me - either that or seagulls and salt.  There are some local products that just will not do - wine is one of them - cheese is another.  Reiterating that my crusade for a fresh, local diet is not all or nothing, I refuse to relinquish cheese from the French countryside or table red from Tuscany.  So exactly where does the buck stop?  How do I decide what should be sourced locally and what imports are permissible?  I decide to start with fresh.  Whatever is fresh on my plate should be local - meat, produce, dairy, eggs.  Luxuries can be exotic insofar as they are superior to what I can source locally.  In the waning light of this spring afternoon I reach for the Joseph Phelps- pour a generous ration into my imported crystal goblet and serve a hunk of Danish edam cheese with some local crusty bread.  Sounds like a fair compromise to me - and sit back to peruse the plan of attack on the kitchen wall.  A strategy is starting to form, a scheme even, a recipe if you will of how to finally fit it all in creating a clean meal for each meal without breaking the bank or becoming an all consuming fire that leaves no room in my day for anything but meal planning.  Organize, streamline, do the work, reap the rewards, share what I find. 

 This is my mission, my calling....whew!  this wine packs a punch!;

A Berry Nice Surprise

The ambulance slowly backed down the driveway on it's way to deliver my mother to Virtua Hospital in Marlton NJ.  This Easter Sunday surprise was not the one the 50 guests arriving in two hours were expecting.  While my brother followed behind the paramedics, I hurried inside to finish preparing, slicing, cooking and dishing up the Easter brunch and party my mother had spent nearly a month planning.  There were hams to be sliced, eggs to display, lasagna, quiche of every kind, beans, buns - you name it.  Neatly tucked into the 200 eggs hidden around the property were the usual Easter surprises from who knows where made with who knows what.  Holidays tend to suspend all manner of dietary rules or concerns and this was no exception.  I myself had placed plenty of chocolate, sugar and deliciousness made en masse by factory machines in some no name place that could be thousands of miles away in my own child's basket.  There was a time when my own Easter basket was filled with bunnies and eggs from either Bayards Chocolate House just two towns away - or chicks and jelly beans from Medford's very own Reily's candy shop (who make the very best, fresh chocolate covered blueberries around in early summer).  Easter basket fare was automatically homemade and local back then.  My grandmother made her own coconut chocolate covered eggs.  I remember helping dip the creamy coconut in a hot vat of dark confection.  So why why why do I fill my own child's basket with junk?  It's a force of habit so instinctual it's going to take a lot more time and effort to deliberately break.  I'm starting to understand that the reason my clients failed so miserably at the detox plan I described in my first blog is that our habits have become so entrenched in the convenient, pre-made, even mindless ways of eating that when we get busy we go into robot mode.  We regress to what is easy.  Many food traditions and routines have been lost along the way over this last generation that we have to seek out classes to learn what we should or could have learned from our mothers or grandmothers.  Boxed shelf food was a novelty to our grandmothers who enthusiastically embraced it as progress, convenience - even an exciting new wonder of the world.  Our mothers enjoyed an increasing volume and variety of processed, packaged foods that made their lives easier and opened up more time for either leisure or the ability to enter the work force.  Even today we no longer have to even slice our apples or dice our butternut squash if we don't want to.  For a few extra pennies I can get it ready to go in a neat little package - no mess involved.  Does that mean my child won't even know how to cube a watermelon or chop an onion?  Will she even know that apples have skin or peaches have stones?  All this progress is rendering us helpless when it comes to feeding ourselves and our families from earth to plate with every meal - including treats.  Sure I've made homemade ice cream now and then - as an activity, a fun diversion - never as a necessity if we wanted a frozen confection.  The more I consider the source of my food - especially as it relates to daily life - the more I realize we've been duped.  There's an entire generation out there that doesn't realize food doesn't come out of a box.  That potato chips come from potatoes that grow in the ground. 

Returning home once Nan was given a clean bill of health and out of the hospital, I surveyed the back yard making mental notes of what needs to be done this week and comparing with my air traffic control kitchen wall.  I walk the small patch of land to see what's popping up from last year.  I notice the oregano making a nice comeback and then something catches my eye.  A long stretch of green along last year's flowerbeds.  What is that?  On closer inspection I immediately recognize the round, scalloped edged leaves.  The single strawberry plant I nurtured last summer mostly as a novelty to show my daughter where strawberries come from has run it's tendrils to a full 16 feet of strawberry goodness.  Wow!  We may actually get a few bowlful of strawberries this year rather than a measly handful - and with nothing but a helping hand from Mother Nature.  Empowered and inspired by this berry beautiful gift, I continue the clearing and weeding of the rest of the beds around the house and mark out the length for the new patch of vegetable garden I've been putting off.  I know there will be at least one child in her generation that knows where food comes from, how to grow it, cook it, can it and respect it.

Hurry Up and Wait

After a flurry of activity two weeks ago, I haven't seen much going on in old man Aldo's garden.  A few rows of bright green growing but more than half the garden is still barren - albeit neatly tilled and furrowed.  Seems it's time to wait again until Mother Nature laps the track and hands off the baton once more in this relay race of Spring gardening.  The rows of shelves in my garage once crowded with a cacophony of discarded, dusty items are now empty.  Gleaming and inviting - just waiting to be stacked with freshly canned tomatoes, peaches, strawberry jam, pickles and whatever else I can manage to jam into a jar.  But for now, they wait, I wait - and continue to find sources for the local produce and other products I won't find in my backyard.  The Fairfield Green Food Guide proves an excellent source for finding farms, farmer's markets and all manner of green ways to eat, cook and get involved.  I download the 2012 Guide to Fairfield County Farmer's Markets and post it up next to the weekly menus, garden plan and shopping strategy.  I survey the plan of attack covering the kitchen wall, I consider the yard and the gardens for a moment - yaaaawwwn - it's like watching grass grow.  And then the Lawn Doctor van pulls up to begin this season's dousing of our patch of grass with seed, fertilizer, pesticides and God knows what else.  I run screaming out into the street, arms waving wildly "Noooooo!".  Not this year," I pant.  The young man looks confused and alarmed.  I explain that we are going green, growing a garden and the poison he's got stacked up in his truck will have to find a new home.  If it's a choice between thriving green grass and thriving green food, I choose food.  My husband will not be happy - he likes a thick carpet of green surrounding the property that is little work for him.  We have an old hand pushed spreader in the shed.  I see no reason why we can't seed and fertilize our own lawn - it's certainly not that big.  There will be no pesticides around here this season though - if I can get my chickens they should take care of the bugs and grubs anyway!  Laura Ingalls would be proud;)

No Scrap Left Behind

So let's get back to the food.  Reading Wildly Affordable Organic has not only opened my eyes to many ways of saving money while getting down and dirty but also reminded me of the many ways to reduce, reuse and yes, even recycle my food - and I'm not talkin' leftovers.  My garden design plan has not only made room for a chicken coop but now a compost bin as well- don't worry the smell of my daughter's feet will outweigh any farm fresh odors in the neighborhood;)  I'm readying myself to buy a kitchen scale to measure out exact amounts not only for baking bread and cookies, but preparing full meals as well.  I've always guestimated the amount of sugar snap peas to saute up for a three person dinner and there always seems to be a small amount left over whether it's animal, vegetable or mineral.  Clearly my eyes have always been bigger than my stomach.  Never enough to save for later but still enough to make me feel guilty tossing it in the trash.  Scaling down my guesstimates to actual amounts will leave no scraps behind while peels, pits and tops will now go into the compost bin.  Shopping for the week instead of the month will yield more fresh food that's used quickly thereby cutting down on packaging.  So how am I doing?  This morning was fresh blueberry pancakes made with local blueberries I froze last summer, organic white whole wheat flour, local butter (expensive! yikes!), local organic milk, local organic eggs.  The batter made enough to freeze for three or four more breakfast meals.  Lunch will be fresh mixed greens from the farm up the road - although sneaking into Aldo's garden in the middle of the night was tempting I restrained myself figuring I need all the good garden karma I can get.  I'll add a hard boiled egg and some organic bell pepper and cucumbers (not local).  It's time this yoga teacher came up with a new mantra.  I've always used this technique with my daughter to motivate her for her morning routine  "Brush (your teeth and hair), rinse (your mouth), floss, potty, scrub (your hands)."  It's organized, fits easily in your mouth and gets the job done.  We post it on the side of the fridge and sing it while getting ready for school.  For me, let's see -  "Plan, shop, cook, clean, freeze."  I'll chew on that for a few days - like a good bottle of heavy cabernet. 

All or nothing?

Weekly meal plan and shopping list - check.  Garden plan with scheduled reminders - check.  Budget, school calendar, workout sessions, holiday checklist, softball roster, daily routine, spring cleaning plan, repair list, email, texts, calls, blogs...STOP!  Time to schedule in some downtime.  I'm inspired and motivated on this mission to get down and dirty with what goes on my plate, but all this healthy living chasing is exhausting!  I realize the start up phase is the hardest and eventually I'll hit my stride, but this was supposed to be the easy season - or so I thought.  I'm connecting with so many new people on this blogging journey who have so many new ideas, stories to tell, tips to share that at times my head is spinning like a helicopter pod slowly spiraling down down down to earth.  Down to earth - hmm, well that's where I'm trying to go so I do.  I go out on this spectacular, warm spring day and sit on the earth.  I can't remember the last time I sat on the grass - directly on the grass - without a blanket or a tarp or some other thin barrier between me and the earth.  And then it hits me.  This quest I am on does not have to be all or nothing - I can go back to the beginning and start with one thing.  Local.  I never really defined what local meant - does it mean food sourced from my backyard, my town, my neighborhood, my state - the northeast?  I decide that my beloved Garden State and it's incredible fruits of summer must be within the boundaries of local.  I set my "local" bar at 200 miles so when Trader Joes is selling big fat juicy blueberries from Hammonton, NJ this summer I can gleefully fill up without a trip to Nan's house.  Local and organic tend to go hand in hand these days - but save for the dirty dozen if I have to sacrifice one of the two - I'll be going local.

Dollars and Sense

I'm on a strict budget according to  my husband - or a tight leash if you ask me.  Since beginning my quest for clean, local, organic food our grocery bill has blossomed considerably - not to mention the added expense of driving to all those farm stands and out of the way markets.  I try to leverage this point in making my argument for a chicken coop - fresh eggs everyday for free!  "Free?" he says.  "I don't think so."  After reviewing the costs of construction, buying the hens, feeding the hens, township permit fees and so on I'm beginning to realize why the farm fresh eggs I've been buying recently are $8 a dozen.  No amount of health benefits balance out the increased grocery bill in his "numbers guy" mind.  Even the gardens I'm planning on yielding bumper crops of fruits and vegetables this summer can carry a hefty price tag.  Soil to fill the raised beds, plants to put in them, organic fertilizer etc etc.  After all, Grandma Emily always said money doesn't grow on trees - and those chickens will not be laying golden eggs.  So what is the cost of a healthy lifestyle?  Do we save on doctor bills?  Do our insurance premiums go down?  How do I eat green and save green too? 

Our local grocery chain has it's own line of organic produce and other products which is more expensive than the non-organic or generic brands but less than other organic brands.  It helps, but not enough.   I find some helpful tips in the book Wildly Affordable Organic - making a plan to eat organic, what to spend on and what to save on.  Here we go again with another plan!  My dry erase board is beginning to look like an air traffic control schedule.  Researching CSA's brought another sticker shock - although fair enough when you spread it out over the whole season, still a good chunk to come up with right now - and the weekly take is usually way more food than we need for the three of us.  What to do?  Most CSA's are already sold out but maybe I can find a half-share out there....somewhere.  Initially, I had no luck so instead I turned to deciding where I am going to source my plants for the vegetable garden.  River Crest Farm in Milford, CT has always been my go to place for herb plants and heirloom tomatoes.  My gentleman farmer brother even prefers their tomato plants over what he can get in Jersey - and that's nothing to sneeze at when considering that Jersey is famous for its tomatoes.  A quick check of their website reveals that they also offer a CSA.  I figure it can't hurt to ask at this point so I shoot off an email to the farm.  Crossed fingers, toes, eyeballs and legs later I get a response that one of the farmer's close friends is looking to split a share with someone.  They don't do half shares as they can't cut or split any of the food items (because that would be considered food processing) but some people buy a full share together and split it themselves.  Perfect!  I look forward to meeting my new CSA buddy - giving the bank a break before breaking the bank - and maybe making a new friend in the process.