I've had a few moments lately where I am overwhelmed at the relief that it really is summer. And I therefore realize that I truly speculated - rather subconsciously - that I'd moved to a perpetually-frigid and terrible place. I think that lack of logic (considering I moved here during the summer and experienced the sweat that came with it) might indicate that winter was just a tad traumatic for me.
It happened first last Saturday at the farmer's market. I bussed to downtown St Paul and bought cucumbers, spinach, herbs, and a bouquet of red peonies. The moment I entered the bustling market and saw the green spread on tables everywhere - a site I took for granted every Saturday of every month in Oakland - I almost cried. I said under my breath, "It really happened." It really got warm enough to sprout anything and it stayed warm enough to grow it.
The second time was two days ago when I walked outside in a t-shirt and decided to leave a long-sleeved shirt at home rather than tote it around in case it got cold. I realized, "it really did warm up. It really is summer." I choked up - seriously!
Today it also happened. L. and I joined a CSA and tonight picked up our first share of produce of the season. It now really is summer! Proof exists in my fridge: these beauties of kale, spinach, radishes, strawberries and lettuce were not shipped in from California or Mexico or Chile! They were grown and picked within an hour's drive. Such relief.
I will live this summer unlike I've lived any other summer before.
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
monumental moment in month 9
I actually got invited to my first party in Minnesota. THIS IS A BIG DEAL!
Remember, Minnesotans generally hang out with their best friends from high school and need 25 weeks of advance planning to make a date.
And it was a spontaneous "we're calling you today for a party tonight" invite.
My ego was spinning!
It was a fabulous party, too, with a manageable number of lively and lovely attendees. The gourmet dinner was thoughtfully planned and expertly executed and we grazed on grilled tomatoes, salmon quiche, beet bacon salad, and mushroom bruschetta for three hours. No one really knew anyone else, which made for a fair playing field for getting to know each other.
Upon leaving, L. said, "that's where all the coolest people are hanging out right now in Minneapolis!" And then she said, pensively, "I think perhaps no one there was actually Minnesotan." She's right. I can't think of a single person there who didn't move here.
OMG! My conclusions about having more success in finding non-Minnesotan friends and her conclusions about Minnesotans not being spontaneous might be right!
Remember, Minnesotans generally hang out with their best friends from high school and need 25 weeks of advance planning to make a date.
And it was a spontaneous "we're calling you today for a party tonight" invite.
My ego was spinning!
It was a fabulous party, too, with a manageable number of lively and lovely attendees. The gourmet dinner was thoughtfully planned and expertly executed and we grazed on grilled tomatoes, salmon quiche, beet bacon salad, and mushroom bruschetta for three hours. No one really knew anyone else, which made for a fair playing field for getting to know each other.
Upon leaving, L. said, "that's where all the coolest people are hanging out right now in Minneapolis!" And then she said, pensively, "I think perhaps no one there was actually Minnesotan." She's right. I can't think of a single person there who didn't move here.
OMG! My conclusions about having more success in finding non-Minnesotan friends and her conclusions about Minnesotans not being spontaneous might be right!
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Mango salsa in January
In an attempt to momentarily cure our winter weather weariness, L. initiated the making of a mango salsa for dinner last night. It included: fresh mangos, jalapeño pepper, cilantro, avocado, and lime juice. It was so freaking good that we ate the whole bowlful, first scooping properly with chips, then devouring it with spoons, and then licking the bowl (just kidding).
The ingredients seriously mocked our memories of 10-inch avocados and over-abundance of mangos we grew tired of eating in El Salvador. Not to mention that for four years on any Saturday of the year, I could walk to the farmer's market in Oakland and hand pick the cheapest, freshest, tastiest, most organic produce in the region from the people who'd grown, picked and delivered it.
In January in Minnesota, you settle for the produce at the co-op that has been picked green thousands of miles away and rattled to some version ripe-ness in a semi-truck, passing various inspections along the way. And you banish away your memories of the way life used to be. You pay a fortune for these hard specimens of tropical fruits, cart them home with visions of culinary dreaminess, and devour them in one sitting while snow falls outside.
In October, I was seriously tempted with the idea of eating only locally-grown foods forevermore, so help me Buddha. Last summer, L.'s sister loaned me the local food diet book written by Barbara Kingsolver, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and I was inspired to adhere to my ideals. I always try to choose local over not local. But recently I went grocery shopping, and L. opened the fridge and said, "where's the food?" I'd managed to get hydroponic lettuce and beets, local cheese and bread, and not much else.
Buying locally is really hard to do in Minnesota in the winter. I could, potentially, spend all my free time driving all over the place and maximizing my "local" purchases. But, then I use a lot of gas instead of walking three blocks to the nearest store - and that doesn't make any sense. Once in a while, though, far-away grown mangos and cilantro and avocados in winter are great stimulants for SANITY and HAPPINESS.
The ingredients seriously mocked our memories of 10-inch avocados and over-abundance of mangos we grew tired of eating in El Salvador. Not to mention that for four years on any Saturday of the year, I could walk to the farmer's market in Oakland and hand pick the cheapest, freshest, tastiest, most organic produce in the region from the people who'd grown, picked and delivered it.
In January in Minnesota, you settle for the produce at the co-op that has been picked green thousands of miles away and rattled to some version ripe-ness in a semi-truck, passing various inspections along the way. And you banish away your memories of the way life used to be. You pay a fortune for these hard specimens of tropical fruits, cart them home with visions of culinary dreaminess, and devour them in one sitting while snow falls outside.
In October, I was seriously tempted with the idea of eating only locally-grown foods forevermore, so help me Buddha. Last summer, L.'s sister loaned me the local food diet book written by Barbara Kingsolver, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and I was inspired to adhere to my ideals. I always try to choose local over not local. But recently I went grocery shopping, and L. opened the fridge and said, "where's the food?" I'd managed to get hydroponic lettuce and beets, local cheese and bread, and not much else.
Buying locally is really hard to do in Minnesota in the winter. I could, potentially, spend all my free time driving all over the place and maximizing my "local" purchases. But, then I use a lot of gas instead of walking three blocks to the nearest store - and that doesn't make any sense. Once in a while, though, far-away grown mangos and cilantro and avocados in winter are great stimulants for SANITY and HAPPINESS.
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