Liberty Village farmer's market for Sunday, June 24th: asparagus, raspberries (the first pick of the season), baby summer squash with the flower intact, strawberries, cherries (my favorite!) bison sirloin and a jar of spicy garlic relish.
I have issued myself a challenge: to eat as much locally produced, in season food as possible. This means I'll be hitting the farmer's markets in my area, buying the bulk of my groceries from them and creating meals from what I've found there. Luckily, this includes meat! Some people have told me that the markets in their part of the world don't carry meat. To them I say...nyah nyah! I pity your malnourished, wimpy markets. I get pastured bison, elk, boar, pork, chicken and beef...and I just found a source of uncaged eggs! Boo-ya, bitches. That thar's good eetin'.
Note I said as much as possible. I realize that certain things, like tea, are not likely to be found growing locally. And I am not likely to give up certain things, like tea. Death would be preferable. Since I just purchased a kick-ass ice cream maker, I am not sacrificing coconut milk. I WILL eat ice cream again, dammit. But I'm going to do what I can.
In addition to supporting independent farmers - some of my favorite people on earth and the ones I would forcibly capture and enslave should total technological, environmental and economic collapse occur in my lifetime - local eating provides the opportunity to try foods I've never eaten before, foods you just don't find in Dominion. Last week, I had purple kohlrabi shredded like hash browns and fried, along with green garlic, in goose fat. I was in heaven. It gave me gas and I doubt I'll repeat it, but I was in heaven. For culinary adventurers, farmers markets are treasure troves.
For people like my BF, who are frightened by foods 1)that come from somewhere unhygienic, like the ground; 2) that they weren't given as a child; 3) that don't come from a packet and require the addition of water and/or vegetable oil, farmer's markets are total bloody nightmares. He looks around at tables overflowing with plump produce and sees evil, zombie-like creatures, clawing their way out of the sodden earth and mindlessly infesting our guts with bacteria, parasites and weird-foodness. Total food wuss. The kohlrabi, for instance, scared the crap out of him. "What the hell is THAT, " he demanded.
"It's a kohlrabi. It's like a..."
"Babe...you're not going to EAT it."
I laughed, because love is blind and I find this adorable. "Of course I'm going to eat it, dumb ass."
"It's purple." His eyes narrowed, as if trying to transmit lifesaving information to me through his gaze. "Food should NOT be PURPLE."