Ann’s Latest Adventures with Local Organic Food | Sequatchie Cove Farm

I suddenly realized it has been over a month since I have sat down and written a letter. And this whole time I have been going to the market, cooking good food, and enjoying good company.

But now I am holed up inside a cloud on Lookout Mountain with nothing to do today except maybe sweep the floor and make some banana pudding (that is a foodstuff that has nothing to do with the market but is almost a necessary part of the diet if it has rained more than five days in a row). I somehow found a bunch of fair-trade organic bananas among the regular organic bananas at Greenlife so I just had to buy them. But before I make that totally unlocal (excepting the Sequatchie Cove eggs — those precious and much sought after gems) comfort food, I thought I would share some long overdue thoughts.

I’m pretty sure almost everything I think or talk about at some point boils down to food. Of course. You can’t live without food — no matter who you are — so it tends to be up there on the list. I am sure there are people out there who don’t spend most of their days thinking about the next meal, but I certainly am not acquainted with them. But I was noticing the other day as I looked over my boyfriend’s shoulder while he was reading some food article or review or something-or-other from the New York or LA Times or somewhere-or-other that although the photos were pretty and the words contained a few organics, some fresh, a little bit of artisan this and batch-made that, there was no mention of what FARM the food came from. How in the WORLD (I was thinking) can you cook a chicken breast with red peppers and toss it with some basil and cream and put it on some bread to make a sandwich and not mention where the chicken, or the peppers, or basil, cream, and bread were FROM?

This is why we shop at the market. We are proud, relieved, happy, and more than willing to say — I got my chicken from River Ridge, my peppers from Williams Island, my basil from Crabtree, and my bread from Neidlov’s. We’ve met every farmer/baker involved in our sandwich and that simple reason makes it taste SO good.

I was also thinking. shopping at the market FORCES us to be aware of the seasons. There are certain things that just don’t work- like unfortunately tomatoes and cilantro rarely cross paths. As do(n’t) lettuce and cucumbers. You can just forget about a lettuce salad with cucumbers because it might be too hot for lettuce or too cold for cucumbers. Of course there are a few hardy lettuces that can beat the heat. A few weeks ago Candice from Crabtree brought lettuce to the market. I thought it was hilarious that the people who’s mouths started watering were the other FARMERS. They were swimming through seas of tomatoes, peppers, melons, cucumbers, squash, eggplant and basil, and a simple green watery refreshing bunch of lettuce was enough to make them clap with joy. Because they knew more than anyone how precious it is. Of course, they had forgotten that a very few months ago they were so tired of lettuce they swore they’d never eat it again.

It is funny how excited we get at the beginning of a season and how torturous it is by the end. I love eggplant with all my heart but about now I “think” I would be happy if I never saw one of those purple globes again. All I want is a nice big pot of collard greens or maybe a fresh cabbage slaw.

That’s why I was full of joy to see radishes and arugula on Williams Island’s table and River Ridge overflowing with winter squashes. The season switch is always fun because you can, for a few weeks, combine the first and the last. Last night we had a tomato salad (I have a few plants in my yard) with thinly sliced sweet peppers, radishes, and cucumbers. Or the night before was a butternut squash soup with roasted sweet peppers and the zing of a jalapeno. I also made a salad of roasted beets (I leave the skin on and just slice them into wedges and cook them til they are shriveled in a 350 degree or so oven), roasted peppers (I throw them under the broiler in the oven til they are black, put them in a covered bowl and let them ‘sweat’ for about ten minutes, and pull of the black skins), and broiled (also under the oven broiler) eggplant slices tossed in chopped garlic and oil. I cooled all of those vegetables and tossed them in basil, olive oil, and balsamic vinegar. Just when you think you are getting sick of everything, some autumn vegetable makes its way in and redefines everything.

I think this can be frustrating to people if they are used to having a very wide variety of vegetables all that time. I personally love the special-ness and excitement of the huge floods of this and that — playing around and cooking old things new ways. I just “know” this is how food is in Tennessee because it’s all I’ve ever had. We have growing seasons for certain things and all the farmers grow it because that is what works best. I think eating in season involves rearranging what ‘staples’ means. To make a soup does not mean you start with the basic three basic carrot, onion, and celery trio. I NEVER have celery in my kitchen (unless the occasional celeriac in the spring or fall counts). As a result I don’t miss it a bit. I don’t even CARE about celery. If I can’t get it fresh then why should I? And carrots only grow sometimes and onions do too. So that means that a soup starts with something totally different. And much better. I don’t even know what it’s like to eat broccoli all year long or have an apple every day. Why would I want to eat some mealy old apple in the middle of hot summer if I can just eat tomatoes and wait til the REAL apples come in with their thick spotted skins and crisp juicy insides. The sweet burst of a muscadine would know longer register in my brain as ‘autumn is almost here’ if I ate them in the spring. Not only do things taste (much much) better when they are in season, but they MEAN something to your body and brain. I think certain things grow in certain weather because that is what our bodies need at that particular time. I always feel a difference in my mood and thoughts when the season changes and I think it is very nice to be able to change my diet along with everything else. It just makes sense.

And that, my friends, is all I have to say (although that is a flat-out lie — I could go on for pages about how great I think the market and eating in season and just eating and cooking in general and farmers and muscadines is but I won’t this time) sooooo . See y’all at market!

Filed under: Local Food Letter, Local Food News on September 20th, 2009 |