This morning, Penelope & I went to the Farmer's Market. Burlington is hosting the "Quadricentennial" celebration for Lake Champlain, and the Market expanded to fit the occasion. We both felt a different energy flowing through the crowd. It seemed calm and inviting, we felt compelled to linger, not in spite of the crowds, but because of them, with them. There were vendors from all over selling all sorts of delicacies and delights.
Once we had satisfied our immediate need for fresh veggies to get us through the weekend, our wandering brought us to the wine tents. As a rule, I generally ignore all local wine. I tried a few some years back, and found the quality to be so far below my palate's standards that I subsequently have deemed any North-Eastern wine to be irrelevant. The one genre that escapes this judgement is Quebecois Ice Wine. And so, when I saw that a local Vineyard was sampling their versions, I was legitimately curious, though my expectations were very low.
We tried a cassis ice wine first. And it was good! Expecting a thick syrupy sweet sipper, we were delighted by it's refreshing lightness. Then onto an ice cider, which was frighteningly delicious, and just happened to come from West Charleston, a little town up north near our hometown of Newport. Feeling brave, we tried a white. It didn't suck! I actually tasted layers of subtle complexity, and felt humbled.
I've been thinking a lot lately about how to be grateful in the moment, and not get caught up in the little prejudices. They grow so slowly that sometimes you don't see how your vision is tinted by them, or how you make choices because of them. For example: "Ugh, I don't want to go to Farmer's Market, it'll be so crowded and this huge social ordeal and I'll spend too much money and blah blah blah." I want to be able to address my perspective and turn it around so that I can truly enjoy the beauty of every day, the gifts of this life that I've chosen. To be near my family and friends. To live in a small town where everybody knows everybody. To have the option of riding your bike or walking, depending on how much time you've got. "Let's go to Farmer's Market! We get to buy beautiful fresh food from people that we know, we get to see our friends and acquaintances in a setting infused with art and life, I can make a difference by choosing to support the local economy!"
Every day offers new gifts. If I can't see them, I should look harder, or create them. And take time to savor the surprises that teach me to forget to remember what I think I've learned. Because with every passing season, I realize more and more that I know nothing at all. And that's good, I think, because it gives me permission to try old things again as if they were new. Even if it hasn't changed, maybe I have.
Showing posts with label community. Show all posts
Showing posts with label community. Show all posts
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Sunday, June 22, 2008
strength and beauty in sweetpeas and life
By Sally A. I. Wall
This afternoon, the storm clouds broke up for a few minutes, minutes enough for me to go out to the veggie patch and gently pull the newly rooted baby crab grass, which was threatening to choke out the courageous sweetpeas, who had braved the stormy blasts of May and early June. The day I planted out those tender seedlings in early May, the North wind came with a vengeance, bringing with it freezing temperatures, blasting out the life from my little sweetpeas, and laying them on the ground. Most of them succumbed. I left them alone, not believing that they'd come back, but I just didn't have the heart to turn them under. It's now the middle of June, and I'm astonished that something so fragile as a sweetpea can turn its nose up at the North wind, and with a little sunshine, plenty of rain, and some lovely muggy warmth, pick itself up by the bootstraps and start again from the ground up! That is precisely what has happened to about half the row. The roots were unscathed by Jack Frost's kiss, and they simply formed 'tillers', an Old English term meaning by-shoots, forming a stronger plant by way of a rotten trick of fate carried on the wings of the wind.
It can be that way, too, for humankind. Fate's ugly hand can come knocking at your door, and before you know it, there you are, lying alongside the fallen sweetpeas. Some really do succumb, like the little seedlings, too weakened by the blow to form 'tillers'; but many, even if they lie there for a while, will be brought back to health by the warm love of friends, the encouragement of those who have been there before, and by the grace of God find new life, stronger life, in this far friendlier environment. It's very important to make sure that this new strength is not choked out by even the tiniest, tenderest baby 'crab grass' of life; it must be kept clear and clean. Before too long, that poor devastated life has branched out, reached out, and has become far stronger than it could ever have imagined. Now that life is an encouragement to others, rather than the victim of circumstance, and people draw from that well and are nourished.
In the same way, in a month or so, I shall draw in my breath deeply, as I take in the delightful aroma of the beautiful sweetpeas, and be nourished. A scent full of memories of my childhood, so long ago, yet so present in this dear, tendrilled flower.
This afternoon, the storm clouds broke up for a few minutes, minutes enough for me to go out to the veggie patch and gently pull the newly rooted baby crab grass, which was threatening to choke out the courageous sweetpeas, who had braved the stormy blasts of May and early June. The day I planted out those tender seedlings in early May, the North wind came with a vengeance, bringing with it freezing temperatures, blasting out the life from my little sweetpeas, and laying them on the ground. Most of them succumbed. I left them alone, not believing that they'd come back, but I just didn't have the heart to turn them under. It's now the middle of June, and I'm astonished that something so fragile as a sweetpea can turn its nose up at the North wind, and with a little sunshine, plenty of rain, and some lovely muggy warmth, pick itself up by the bootstraps and start again from the ground up! That is precisely what has happened to about half the row. The roots were unscathed by Jack Frost's kiss, and they simply formed 'tillers', an Old English term meaning by-shoots, forming a stronger plant by way of a rotten trick of fate carried on the wings of the wind.
It can be that way, too, for humankind. Fate's ugly hand can come knocking at your door, and before you know it, there you are, lying alongside the fallen sweetpeas. Some really do succumb, like the little seedlings, too weakened by the blow to form 'tillers'; but many, even if they lie there for a while, will be brought back to health by the warm love of friends, the encouragement of those who have been there before, and by the grace of God find new life, stronger life, in this far friendlier environment. It's very important to make sure that this new strength is not choked out by even the tiniest, tenderest baby 'crab grass' of life; it must be kept clear and clean. Before too long, that poor devastated life has branched out, reached out, and has become far stronger than it could ever have imagined. Now that life is an encouragement to others, rather than the victim of circumstance, and people draw from that well and are nourished.
In the same way, in a month or so, I shall draw in my breath deeply, as I take in the delightful aroma of the beautiful sweetpeas, and be nourished. A scent full of memories of my childhood, so long ago, yet so present in this dear, tendrilled flower.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
café expres, a perfect date
One of my favorite things about being in Paris is the wonderful tradition of café expres (espresso). You can pop in any old place, sit with Romance at the bar, stare at fabulous people and cool your elbows on the smooth marble countertop, while you sip a little cupful of rich, fragrant coffee. It's a very romantic, European thing—to be so grandiose, so spontaneous—to make such an event of drinking a thimble-full of anything. That anybody can accomplish such a stylish, nostalgic moment for less than $2 makes it that much more appealing.
Lately, Colin and I have been making a habit—albeit spontaneous—of popping into cafes for a little restoration. In Burlington on Church Street, there are at least two good places I can think where you can experience the inexpensive luxury of espresso, elevated to an art form. But all you really need is a bar, a good atmosphere, and of course an espresso machine (there are some really wonderful restaurants in town that, sadly, do not have one).
Lake Champlain Chocolates is perfect, because not only do they serve espresso, but they also sell what is, in my mind, the best chocolate around. The two really go hand in hand (that's why in Paris and elsewhere, they always serve espresso with a chocolate-covered coffee bean or almond). It takes the edge off the dark Arabica brew. Lake Champlain Chocolates has a little bar where you can sit and enjoy your moment while watching the passersby on the street. Colin and I dropped in the other day while we were out running errands and ordered two espressos and one square of dark chocolate (to share). The entire thing cost around five dollars, but it felt much more extravagant than that.
I know I talk about Leunig's Bistro a lot, but I can't help it. We love to eat there. And while it's true that you can get a little over-the-top with the menu, some of my favorite moments there have been the simple and spontaneous ones, sitting at the bar, with just a glass of wine and Vermont cheese plate. You could just linger there all night and really feel like a neighborhood regular by the end of it (for under $10 a person). Last night, we stopped in before a movie date for some espresso and one of their amazing maple creme brulees to share—it's the best creme brulee in town, and I'm an expert.
I don't know why I'm telling you any of this. I just felt very good when I remembered these two moments. They reminded me of other espresso moments. I love that these moments are at the same time economical, romantic, and memorable. What more could you ask for in a date?
Lately, Colin and I have been making a habit—albeit spontaneous—of popping into cafes for a little restoration. In Burlington on Church Street, there are at least two good places I can think where you can experience the inexpensive luxury of espresso, elevated to an art form. But all you really need is a bar, a good atmosphere, and of course an espresso machine (there are some really wonderful restaurants in town that, sadly, do not have one).
Lake Champlain Chocolates is perfect, because not only do they serve espresso, but they also sell what is, in my mind, the best chocolate around. The two really go hand in hand (that's why in Paris and elsewhere, they always serve espresso with a chocolate-covered coffee bean or almond). It takes the edge off the dark Arabica brew. Lake Champlain Chocolates has a little bar where you can sit and enjoy your moment while watching the passersby on the street. Colin and I dropped in the other day while we were out running errands and ordered two espressos and one square of dark chocolate (to share). The entire thing cost around five dollars, but it felt much more extravagant than that.
I know I talk about Leunig's Bistro a lot, but I can't help it. We love to eat there. And while it's true that you can get a little over-the-top with the menu, some of my favorite moments there have been the simple and spontaneous ones, sitting at the bar, with just a glass of wine and Vermont cheese plate. You could just linger there all night and really feel like a neighborhood regular by the end of it (for under $10 a person). Last night, we stopped in before a movie date for some espresso and one of their amazing maple creme brulees to share—it's the best creme brulee in town, and I'm an expert.
I don't know why I'm telling you any of this. I just felt very good when I remembered these two moments. They reminded me of other espresso moments. I love that these moments are at the same time economical, romantic, and memorable. What more could you ask for in a date?
Monday, January 28, 2008
a cool and wet winter
Every month, I receive a welcome missive from my good friend Madeleine Vedel. Together she and her husband Erick run a cooking school in Provence, France. It is there I stayed for several months after college, and the memories from that time run deep and vivid in my mind.
The most recent missive in my mailbox talked about mushrooms and reminded me of when we went mushroom hunting during a stay in the gorgeous lush hills of the Cévennes mountains in Southern France. I was very homesick at the time, and the green, rolling forests reminded me very much of my home in Vermont.
At the end of an adventurous treasure hunt, I had found a total of 3 large cèpes (also known as porcinis). A proud moment! We brought them by the local pharmacy (to check for poisonous varieties) and then whisked them home to cook up a fabulous supper.
And here is Madeleine's letter...
When it rains... mushrooms come popping up! And Provence, a land of agriculture and outdoor beauty, soaks up the gentle bounty of the skies. The beekeeper is pleased for her bees, and the future rosemary honey; the farm next door is pleased as he'll not need to irrigate this winter (and nor should he! this is "normal" winter weather for us... but the past few years weren't too normal). Already the dark fields are sprouting tender green shoots of winter wheat.
Next week brings us our special week of winter decadence: truffles, foie gras, duck confit, chocolates, Chateauneuf-du-Pape wines... mmm I can't wait! We get our barbary ducks, well fattened from a farmer in the Southwest who raises them in a small, hands-on operation. Though for many, foie gras is not "politically-correct" I must admit to truly loving it -- in moderation. In my defense, I could mention that the Egyptians already enjoyed it thousands of years' ago, after noticing that both geese and ducks store extra energy in their livers in preparation for the long flight over the Mediterranean to their nesting grounds in France...
Of course, we'll also be liberally sprinkling our food with truffles -- those rough and funky lumps that our friend Rene's dog will find for us. We'll imbibe the potent aromas of this rare species in the cafe beside the market -- now smoke free!!! Yes, France has turned smoke-free in public spaces. Amazing, hm? T'will be interesting to see to what degree they abide by the new laws.
As we begin the year 2008, I treasure the memories of 2007, and all the wonderful visits of friends of friends, past clients and so many more. We were the happy beneficiaries of oodles of word of mouth contacts. Thank you! and please, feel free to share this email missive and your stories of your time with us with any and all. Provence is our home, and we love sharing it with you.
—Madeleine Vedel, Association Cuisine et Tradition, www.cuisineprovencale.com
Photos: Penelope, Madeleine and friends mushroom hunting in the Cévennes in Southern France, 2002.
The most recent missive in my mailbox talked about mushrooms and reminded me of when we went mushroom hunting during a stay in the gorgeous lush hills of the Cévennes mountains in Southern France. I was very homesick at the time, and the green, rolling forests reminded me very much of my home in Vermont.
At the end of an adventurous treasure hunt, I had found a total of 3 large cèpes (also known as porcinis). A proud moment! We brought them by the local pharmacy (to check for poisonous varieties) and then whisked them home to cook up a fabulous supper.
And here is Madeleine's letter...
When it rains... mushrooms come popping up! And Provence, a land of agriculture and outdoor beauty, soaks up the gentle bounty of the skies. The beekeeper is pleased for her bees, and the future rosemary honey; the farm next door is pleased as he'll not need to irrigate this winter (and nor should he! this is "normal" winter weather for us... but the past few years weren't too normal). Already the dark fields are sprouting tender green shoots of winter wheat.
Next week brings us our special week of winter decadence: truffles, foie gras, duck confit, chocolates, Chateauneuf-du-Pape wines... mmm I can't wait! We get our barbary ducks, well fattened from a farmer in the Southwest who raises them in a small, hands-on operation. Though for many, foie gras is not "politically-correct" I must admit to truly loving it -- in moderation. In my defense, I could mention that the Egyptians already enjoyed it thousands of years' ago, after noticing that both geese and ducks store extra energy in their livers in preparation for the long flight over the Mediterranean to their nesting grounds in France...
Of course, we'll also be liberally sprinkling our food with truffles -- those rough and funky lumps that our friend Rene's dog will find for us. We'll imbibe the potent aromas of this rare species in the cafe beside the market -- now smoke free!!! Yes, France has turned smoke-free in public spaces. Amazing, hm? T'will be interesting to see to what degree they abide by the new laws.
As we begin the year 2008, I treasure the memories of 2007, and all the wonderful visits of friends of friends, past clients and so many more. We were the happy beneficiaries of oodles of word of mouth contacts. Thank you! and please, feel free to share this email missive and your stories of your time with us with any and all. Provence is our home, and we love sharing it with you.
—Madeleine Vedel, Association Cuisine et Tradition, www.cuisineprovencale.com
Photos: Penelope, Madeleine and friends mushroom hunting in the Cévennes in Southern France, 2002.
Monday, November 26, 2007
hungry creatures
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings.
The purple headed mountains,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;−
The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,−
He made them every one:
The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;−
He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
(Amen)
—All Things Bright and Beautiful, hymn by Cecil F. Alexander
Monday, November 12, 2007
to be pregnant
Essay and Artwork by Elisa Freeman Smith
Photograph by Brett Smith
As I sit here with my laptop, feeling my unborn child shifting and kicking about in my belly to the point where this action jars my arm and affects my typing (well, almost!); I realize that I have indeed come into a new awareness. Thoughts on nourishment are central to this new consciousness, ranging from digesting the endless media regarding pregnancy do’s and don’ts, to the daydreams about how my child is growing inside of my own body and how nourishing myself will in turn nourish her.
Feeling my baby tap-dance on the flip-side of my popping belly-button evokes such a feeling of awe—I tell my husband, Brett, that I can’t help but feel so special. I am just so lucky to be the one who gets to carry this tiny, magical life form (cue holy music and spotlight shining down on me)—I must be the only person on earth who has ever experienced such a sacred event… REALITY CHECK—Cut Spotlight. As soon as I come back down to earth I see moms and kids everywhere. Yes, this is happening every day. More than once. More than twice. In fact, every glowing, smiling basketball-bellied lady in my whole pre-natal yoga class is sitting next to me every Wednesday with their hands on their stomachs feeling the EXACT SAME THING!! (Not to mention a thousand or so other prenatal yoga classes around the continent every day…) Well, not exactly the same thing, but you get were I’m going. I feel like I go through this little roller coaster of emotions almost daily—they say it’s hormones. Luckily, I’ve settled somewhere in between feeling very happy to have this experience, but at the same time, glad to have others that share it with me. Nourishment, especially during pregnancy, definitely feels like a community experience.
As many others who have participated in this blog have declared, nourishment means far more to them than the food that they eat, and my feelings about nourishment during pregnancy are not much different in that I feel an increased desire for overall nourishment – body, mind, spirit. However, the direct connection between the food that nourishes me and in turn nourishes my baby cannot be denied. It’s the topic of many a panic-stricken Q & A session in the online pregnancy forums. ‘I ate goat cheese last night, is my baby going to miscarry due to Listeriosis?’ ‘I had 2 glasses of wine last week before I knew I was pregnant—is my baby going to have Fetal Alcohol Syndrome?’ ‘I didn’t know I couldn’t eat more that 12 oz of fish per week—is my baby going to have mercury poisoning??’ That last one is a good example of why all of this media hype must be taken with a grain of salt. The official “rule” according to all of the pregnancy-related books, websites, etc. when I became pregnant last May was that you should not eat more than 12 oz of seafood, and that was from a limited list of seafood based on each species’ mercury content. Flash forward to October 4th, just a month ago, and the headlines read: “Pregnant and breast-feeding women should eat at least 12 ounces (340 grams) of fish and other seafood a week because the benefits for infant brain development outweigh any worries about mercury contamination, a group of U.S. experts said on Thursday.” Oh yes, this did totally contradict my carefully regulated weekly seafood regimen of the previous 5 months of my pregnancy. After a moment of panic related to my feeling that there was no doctor, no website, no book that could tell me exactly what to do to take care of my baby; I realized that I am the mother and that I need to have faith and trust in myself and my own motherly instincts, as mothers have been doing since the very first child was conceived.
My instincts have basically led me to enjoy everything I’ve always enjoyed, in moderation. Although this may mean only an occasional sip of my favorite wine, it means way more chocolate milk, which is almost as good to me. It may also mean a slightly larger portion of dinner- particularly vitamin-rich leafy greens, which I can never seem to get enough of. Getting enough iron and folic acid is one of those tried and true pregnancy “musts,” that drives this urge. Not only do I eat spinach, kale and brussels sprouts whenever possible, but I also diligently add a couple of tablespoons of wheat germ to my yogurt and hot cereal every day. Oh, and, the girl definitely gets her fair share of ice cream! For me, there isn’t an exact science to it, but all of this in addition to a daily pre-natal vitamin give me piece of mind that I am doing the best job I can of physically nourishing myself and the baby. Every time I feel a healthy kick, I think about how I am helping my baby develop and grow strong.
So, as Brett and I sit here eating seafood to our hearts’ contents, I’m confident that I’ve come to a sort of pregnancy-food-nourishment-self-actualization. Now I’m free to focus on other forms of nourishment that will promote our daughter-to be’s development. Brett and I have talked a lot about the nourishment of our own characters, with a belief that leading by example is one of the best forms of parenting. We are sure that in this new phase of life the need and opportunity for all types of nourishment will be abundant, but that may be another blog entry…
—Elisa Freeman Smith, Artist & Mother-to-Be
Photograph by Brett Smith
As I sit here with my laptop, feeling my unborn child shifting and kicking about in my belly to the point where this action jars my arm and affects my typing (well, almost!); I realize that I have indeed come into a new awareness. Thoughts on nourishment are central to this new consciousness, ranging from digesting the endless media regarding pregnancy do’s and don’ts, to the daydreams about how my child is growing inside of my own body and how nourishing myself will in turn nourish her.Feeling my baby tap-dance on the flip-side of my popping belly-button evokes such a feeling of awe—I tell my husband, Brett, that I can’t help but feel so special. I am just so lucky to be the one who gets to carry this tiny, magical life form (cue holy music and spotlight shining down on me)—I must be the only person on earth who has ever experienced such a sacred event… REALITY CHECK—Cut Spotlight. As soon as I come back down to earth I see moms and kids everywhere. Yes, this is happening every day. More than once. More than twice. In fact, every glowing, smiling basketball-bellied lady in my whole pre-natal yoga class is sitting next to me every Wednesday with their hands on their stomachs feeling the EXACT SAME THING!! (Not to mention a thousand or so other prenatal yoga classes around the continent every day…) Well, not exactly the same thing, but you get were I’m going. I feel like I go through this little roller coaster of emotions almost daily—they say it’s hormones. Luckily, I’ve settled somewhere in between feeling very happy to have this experience, but at the same time, glad to have others that share it with me. Nourishment, especially during pregnancy, definitely feels like a community experience.
As many others who have participated in this blog have declared, nourishment means far more to them than the food that they eat, and my feelings about nourishment during pregnancy are not much different in that I feel an increased desire for overall nourishment – body, mind, spirit. However, the direct connection between the food that nourishes me and in turn nourishes my baby cannot be denied. It’s the topic of many a panic-stricken Q & A session in the online pregnancy forums. ‘I ate goat cheese last night, is my baby going to miscarry due to Listeriosis?’ ‘I had 2 glasses of wine last week before I knew I was pregnant—is my baby going to have Fetal Alcohol Syndrome?’ ‘I didn’t know I couldn’t eat more that 12 oz of fish per week—is my baby going to have mercury poisoning??’ That last one is a good example of why all of this media hype must be taken with a grain of salt. The official “rule” according to all of the pregnancy-related books, websites, etc. when I became pregnant last May was that you should not eat more than 12 oz of seafood, and that was from a limited list of seafood based on each species’ mercury content. Flash forward to October 4th, just a month ago, and the headlines read: “Pregnant and breast-feeding women should eat at least 12 ounces (340 grams) of fish and other seafood a week because the benefits for infant brain development outweigh any worries about mercury contamination, a group of U.S. experts said on Thursday.” Oh yes, this did totally contradict my carefully regulated weekly seafood regimen of the previous 5 months of my pregnancy. After a moment of panic related to my feeling that there was no doctor, no website, no book that could tell me exactly what to do to take care of my baby; I realized that I am the mother and that I need to have faith and trust in myself and my own motherly instincts, as mothers have been doing since the very first child was conceived.
My instincts have basically led me to enjoy everything I’ve always enjoyed, in moderation. Although this may mean only an occasional sip of my favorite wine, it means way more chocolate milk, which is almost as good to me. It may also mean a slightly larger portion of dinner- particularly vitamin-rich leafy greens, which I can never seem to get enough of. Getting enough iron and folic acid is one of those tried and true pregnancy “musts,” that drives this urge. Not only do I eat spinach, kale and brussels sprouts whenever possible, but I also diligently add a couple of tablespoons of wheat germ to my yogurt and hot cereal every day. Oh, and, the girl definitely gets her fair share of ice cream! For me, there isn’t an exact science to it, but all of this in addition to a daily pre-natal vitamin give me piece of mind that I am doing the best job I can of physically nourishing myself and the baby. Every time I feel a healthy kick, I think about how I am helping my baby develop and grow strong.
So, as Brett and I sit here eating seafood to our hearts’ contents, I’m confident that I’ve come to a sort of pregnancy-food-nourishment-self-actualization. Now I’m free to focus on other forms of nourishment that will promote our daughter-to be’s development. Brett and I have talked a lot about the nourishment of our own characters, with a belief that leading by example is one of the best forms of parenting. We are sure that in this new phase of life the need and opportunity for all types of nourishment will be abundant, but that may be another blog entry…
—Elisa Freeman Smith, Artist & Mother-to-Be
Monday, October 29, 2007
provision from above
Though not traditional American fare, in England goose is saved for the most special occasions like Christmas or celebrations. Growing up, I remember singing the nursery rhyme that my mother taught us, "Christmas is a-coming and the goose is getting fat. Please put a penny in the old man's hat. If you haven't got a penny, a ha'penny will do. If you haven't got a ha'penny, a farthing will do. If you haven't got a farthing, then God bless you!" But the closest we ever got to the real thing was running away from the mean, honking (alive) beasts at the Thorson's farm in Dorset, Vermont. We never actually had goose (farmed or wild) for Christmas. Perhaps this year will be different... though I'm not sure I'm quite there yet with my dad who can look up in the sky at the signature V-formation and think "dinner."
The Fall, my favorite time of year! One of the things that I love about it are the geese that fly over our house on the way to warmer climate.
It was on Saturday morning that we saw several flocks when I said to my wife Sally, (please don't be offended) “Wouldn't it be nice to have one of those on our table.”
Wouldn't you know it that that very evening my good friend Stewart presented me with two beautifully cleaned wild Canadian Goose breasts from geese that had been shot that very day. (They are huge.) We have put them in the freezer to save them for a special occasion. (Like maybe my birthday coming soon 11/6.) I will try this recipe.
For wild goose, it is best to soak the breasts in buttermilk for a day beforehand.
2 breasts of goose
1 pkg. dry onion soup mix
1 apple, sliced
2 cups water
2 tbsp. frozen orange juice (undiluted)
To make:
Fillet breasts. Place breasts on platter and cover with apple and orange. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight. Place apple, and orange and fillets in 1 1/2 quart oblong baking dish. Empty onion soup into dish; add water. Bake at 300 degrees for 2 hours. Serve with pan drippings. Serves 4.
—Larry Wall, Newport, Vermont
The Fall, my favorite time of year! One of the things that I love about it are the geese that fly over our house on the way to warmer climate.
It was on Saturday morning that we saw several flocks when I said to my wife Sally, (please don't be offended) “Wouldn't it be nice to have one of those on our table.”
Wouldn't you know it that that very evening my good friend Stewart presented me with two beautifully cleaned wild Canadian Goose breasts from geese that had been shot that very day. (They are huge.) We have put them in the freezer to save them for a special occasion. (Like maybe my birthday coming soon 11/6.) I will try this recipe.
For wild goose, it is best to soak the breasts in buttermilk for a day beforehand.
Goose Breast à l'Orange
Ingredients:2 breasts of goose
1 pkg. dry onion soup mix
1 apple, sliced
2 cups water
2 tbsp. frozen orange juice (undiluted)
To make:
Fillet breasts. Place breasts on platter and cover with apple and orange. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight. Place apple, and orange and fillets in 1 1/2 quart oblong baking dish. Empty onion soup into dish; add water. Bake at 300 degrees for 2 hours. Serve with pan drippings. Serves 4.
—Larry Wall, Newport, Vermont
Monday, October 22, 2007
nourishing the people
Nourishment is a sexy word and naturally conjures up the warm and fuzzy sentiments—the extra-special things—that make us feel, well, nourished. These are the things we are wont to explore and write about. But what about those everyday commodities that nourish us behind the scenes? Those things—such as milk or water—so common, yet so important to our daily nourishment. We take them for granted. Is milk just not sexy enough to warrant our attention?
While most of us think of nourishment in terms of our own experience, there are some, like my brother-in-law, who can’t think about nourishment without thinking about those who nourish us. For Kevin Kouri, a dairy nutritionist from Burlington, Vermont, understanding what it takes to get the milk from the cow to the table is a part of what he does every day. He visits the farmers of Franklin County; he listens to their stories and helps troubleshoot their dilemmas. He’s not only a consultant, but a friend and confidant. His phone is always on, even on weekends. That’s just the nature of the business.
Here Kevin helps us dig a little deeper for the story behind milk and explains why we should all try to understand a little bit more.
Nourishment comes in many different forms for me. Playing golf with friends and family, skiing down the slopes of the Green Mountains, taking in a day on the waterfront or watching the people on Church Street in downtown Burlington, spending time with my beautiful wife and my English black lab are all things that gives me fulfillment and nourishment.
What I would like to explore in this short essay about nourishment is not what I find nourishing to my own body, mind or soul. Instead, I would like to focus on those individuals who bring nourishment to all of the people who reside on this planet: farmers.
Farmers are purveyors of all things good, natural, clean, healthy and pure. They are stewards of the land and protectors of the environment. As consumers of their goods, we do not celebrate enough their hard work, commitment and sacrifice they make to support our own lifestyle. Popular press articles about agriculture typically spin a story about big agriculture and the pollution it generates. It’s convenient for us to read these stories and believe they are true, without seeking out the truth on our own. I hope that I can convince the readers of this essay to seek their own truth about agriculture.
Farmers’ markets have sprung up as the new vogue thing in the last couple of years. We have taken ourselves out of the grocery stores to shop directly from the small-scale producers and support local agriculture. As a person who works day in and day out in the agricultural world, I find this enlightening and beneficial to our environment and economy. When I stroll the Burlington farmers’ market I see signs boasting catch-phrases like “local,” “community-supported,” “organic,” “natural,” “hormone- and pesticide- free,” “family,” “low-intensive” and “sustainable.” Words that make us consumers feel great, happy to buy what they have to sell, and that we did our good deed for the day.
The idea of “big agriculture” isn’t so recent and in the United States dates as far back as the early Twentieth Century when U.S. agriculture saw a tremendous boom primarily due to World Wars I and II. The largest growth tended to be the dairy sector. Not only did we need to supply milk and cheese to our troops and foreign allies, but also we needed to feed the citizens of Europe. This forced the agriculture industry to grow in order to meet the demand. Over time the phrase of “big agriculture” has become ugly and some people feel that big farmers, primarily livestock and dairy farmers, are ruining the landscape and the environment.
These forces have started to collide pinning small agriculture vs. big agriculture. This is bad policy and it could signal the change to the future of agriculture in Vermont and other New England states.
Both can exist and they should exist. How is a 500, 1000, or even 2000 cow dairy farm bad? Have you ever stepped onto a farm of this size or seen the regulations they must follow for animal husbandry and environmental protection? Would you ever consider they are milking that many cows because the farmer has a family of 10-15 sons and daughters who all work and hold stake in the farm and who are each supporting their own family? Some dairy farms such as these support 20-30 employees and must provide a livable wage with health insurance and sometimes a 401K plan for all of them.
This is not big agriculture this is the size of a farm that can sustain its family members with a livable wage during good years, and provides jobs to citizens of the community. The farmers work an honest day to make an honest product that we all enjoy. So if size is the issue, remember what comes with that size and the families that operate these dairies, big or small. These are third- and even fourth-generation farms that have cared and nurtured the land year after year to bring a product like milk to everyone’s table. To make a product that is pure, safe and wholesome.
Currently, most consumers do not buy locally made milk. As a region, we are short on providing milk due to large fluid markets such as New York City and Boston. So a lot of milk flows in from the West. If we want to buy locally supported produce and meat at the Burlington Farmers Market, we should make the same conscious decision at the dairy case.
Read and ask questions. It’s up to us as consumers to understand where our food comes from and what is behind it. If we do not try to understand, then it’s too easy for policy makers and lobby groups to dictate the future of our food sources. Agriculture needs to have a unified voice not a divided force.
I am a believer in regional food production and I feel dairy needs to be number one in this category. Agriculture is the number one revenue-generating industry in the state followed by tourism. It is not IBM, Burton, General Dynamics, UVM or Pratt and Whitney that are the number-one employers in this great state of Vermont—it is the farmers.
Next time you drive by a big dairy on 22A in Addison County or on Route 105 in Enosburg Falls, try not to focus on the fact that the farm smells or looks intrusive in such a pretty landscape. Instead think about the number of people working there—the people who are caring for the land and animals—and the family that’s trying to make a living like everyone else.
—Kevin M. Kouri, M.S., Dairy Nutritionist/Sales, Poulin Grain, Inc.
While most of us think of nourishment in terms of our own experience, there are some, like my brother-in-law, who can’t think about nourishment without thinking about those who nourish us. For Kevin Kouri, a dairy nutritionist from Burlington, Vermont, understanding what it takes to get the milk from the cow to the table is a part of what he does every day. He visits the farmers of Franklin County; he listens to their stories and helps troubleshoot their dilemmas. He’s not only a consultant, but a friend and confidant. His phone is always on, even on weekends. That’s just the nature of the business.
Here Kevin helps us dig a little deeper for the story behind milk and explains why we should all try to understand a little bit more.
Nourishment comes in many different forms for me. Playing golf with friends and family, skiing down the slopes of the Green Mountains, taking in a day on the waterfront or watching the people on Church Street in downtown Burlington, spending time with my beautiful wife and my English black lab are all things that gives me fulfillment and nourishment.
What I would like to explore in this short essay about nourishment is not what I find nourishing to my own body, mind or soul. Instead, I would like to focus on those individuals who bring nourishment to all of the people who reside on this planet: farmers.
Farmers are purveyors of all things good, natural, clean, healthy and pure. They are stewards of the land and protectors of the environment. As consumers of their goods, we do not celebrate enough their hard work, commitment and sacrifice they make to support our own lifestyle. Popular press articles about agriculture typically spin a story about big agriculture and the pollution it generates. It’s convenient for us to read these stories and believe they are true, without seeking out the truth on our own. I hope that I can convince the readers of this essay to seek their own truth about agriculture.
Farmers’ markets have sprung up as the new vogue thing in the last couple of years. We have taken ourselves out of the grocery stores to shop directly from the small-scale producers and support local agriculture. As a person who works day in and day out in the agricultural world, I find this enlightening and beneficial to our environment and economy. When I stroll the Burlington farmers’ market I see signs boasting catch-phrases like “local,” “community-supported,” “organic,” “natural,” “hormone- and pesticide- free,” “family,” “low-intensive” and “sustainable.” Words that make us consumers feel great, happy to buy what they have to sell, and that we did our good deed for the day.The idea of “big agriculture” isn’t so recent and in the United States dates as far back as the early Twentieth Century when U.S. agriculture saw a tremendous boom primarily due to World Wars I and II. The largest growth tended to be the dairy sector. Not only did we need to supply milk and cheese to our troops and foreign allies, but also we needed to feed the citizens of Europe. This forced the agriculture industry to grow in order to meet the demand. Over time the phrase of “big agriculture” has become ugly and some people feel that big farmers, primarily livestock and dairy farmers, are ruining the landscape and the environment.
These forces have started to collide pinning small agriculture vs. big agriculture. This is bad policy and it could signal the change to the future of agriculture in Vermont and other New England states.
Both can exist and they should exist. How is a 500, 1000, or even 2000 cow dairy farm bad? Have you ever stepped onto a farm of this size or seen the regulations they must follow for animal husbandry and environmental protection? Would you ever consider they are milking that many cows because the farmer has a family of 10-15 sons and daughters who all work and hold stake in the farm and who are each supporting their own family? Some dairy farms such as these support 20-30 employees and must provide a livable wage with health insurance and sometimes a 401K plan for all of them.
This is not big agriculture this is the size of a farm that can sustain its family members with a livable wage during good years, and provides jobs to citizens of the community. The farmers work an honest day to make an honest product that we all enjoy. So if size is the issue, remember what comes with that size and the families that operate these dairies, big or small. These are third- and even fourth-generation farms that have cared and nurtured the land year after year to bring a product like milk to everyone’s table. To make a product that is pure, safe and wholesome.
Currently, most consumers do not buy locally made milk. As a region, we are short on providing milk due to large fluid markets such as New York City and Boston. So a lot of milk flows in from the West. If we want to buy locally supported produce and meat at the Burlington Farmers Market, we should make the same conscious decision at the dairy case.
Read and ask questions. It’s up to us as consumers to understand where our food comes from and what is behind it. If we do not try to understand, then it’s too easy for policy makers and lobby groups to dictate the future of our food sources. Agriculture needs to have a unified voice not a divided force.
I am a believer in regional food production and I feel dairy needs to be number one in this category. Agriculture is the number one revenue-generating industry in the state followed by tourism. It is not IBM, Burton, General Dynamics, UVM or Pratt and Whitney that are the number-one employers in this great state of Vermont—it is the farmers.
Next time you drive by a big dairy on 22A in Addison County or on Route 105 in Enosburg Falls, try not to focus on the fact that the farm smells or looks intrusive in such a pretty landscape. Instead think about the number of people working there—the people who are caring for the land and animals—and the family that’s trying to make a living like everyone else.
—Kevin M. Kouri, M.S., Dairy Nutritionist/Sales, Poulin Grain, Inc.
Monday, October 15, 2007
transparency
In order to minimize my impact here on Earth, I’ve thought about what it would mean to lead a transparent life. What it would mean to untangle the complexity of this world, and truly understand and find meaning in the basic elements that contribute to my existence here.
It would mean taking nothing for granted. It would mean having a hand in the decisions I make. A literal hand. It would mean mixing my dough rather than pulling it from the package. It would mean raising the chicken if I’m to have eggs. Growing the wheat to make the flour. It would mean walking to work. 12 miles down Route 7. And 12 miles back. On shoes that I made from tree bark or, if I have the stomach, from the leather of a felled doe. That I felled myself. It would mean fetching water from the lake (a 15-minute walk there and 15 minutes back). And then to boil it to purify it. On fire that I built by rubbing some dry wood with a piece of stone… And that’s just to start.
To iron out the complexities of life would mean intangible things as well: being honest and true, pursuing knowledge while being sensitive to the needs of others, yearning for community, taking time to understand.
To reach transparency is a huge task. We can only get there one step at a time. I might not have room or time to raise my own chickens, but I can choose to buy eggs from my local farmer and I can make an effort to visit his farm and understand his practice. It is there in our search for understanding that we build community and sensitivity. We nourish one another. And we learn that our efforts have the power to build exponentially upon each other.
Blog Action Day
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