It was a rare occasion the other day: I headed off to the local organic farmers market without any children in tow. That meant I could meander around and take things slow while I shopped for vegetables for dinner, something for lunch and a few things to add to an extra special gift basket I am planning for someone. I could ponder over the local oils and gaze at the varieties of artisan bread. It was blissful.

I might have skipped a little on my way in. Maybe.

And it was because my attention was totally focused on the task at hand — shopping — that I was able to eavesdrop and learn that the two side by side containers of beans were in fact two different types — green beans and pole beans.

Pole beans are long (twice as long as a green bean) beans with more pronounced beans inside. They are a little thicker and tougher than their green bean counterparts. I was intrigued and couldn’t wait to give them a shot. So, on the recommendation of Patrick from Waldingfield Farm, I marinated and cooked the beans up on the grill.

The result? Really good. Super good.

We ate these beans that night with burgers in place of fries, and they were a perfect fit.

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Mmm. That is a locally grown and butchered Delmonico steak, hot off the grill. The cow is from a farm run by a family with a young child and I buy it directly from the mom at the farmers market. I. Love. That.

Frankly, I don’t write about eating locally raised and grown food nearly as often as I should. It’s something that I am pretty passionate about and really take to heart. Each week, I shop at at least one, often two, farmers markets. In the summertime, I rarely buy anything at the grocery store.

There are so many reasons I support eating locally. For one, the food just tastes better. Produce in the grocery store is often grown thousands of miles away, picked before it’s peak and flown in. That’s why you will see rows of green bananas and piles of hard plums. You aren’t supposed to pick these things before they naturally ripen, but that is what happens. As a result, we pay for it in taste. Read the rest of this entry…

It’s been pretty warm during the day over the last few days. Still, I am holding vigilantly to my vow of no air conditioning this summer. And really, when it comes down to it and you just accept that this is what summer feels like, it’s not that bad. Really. I am used to it.

So, despite the heat I just couldn’t resist making one more risotto dish. The creaminess! The fresh herbs! The sweet, tender peas (because fresh English peas are the only peas to eat … seriously)! It was worth every second of slaving over a hot stove.

A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do …

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That is a palmful of some blissfully juicy, sweet-tart wild blackberries. So tasty.

Last week, I noticed something red in a bush along my driveway while pulling out to go to the store. I didn’t stop at the time, and I mentally wrote it off as some inedible red berries like the perfectly round and frosty-exterior ones I used to squash between my fingers growing up.

Then, while I was walking up the driveway to get the mail yesterday, the spots of red caught my eye again. Except this time, I had the wherewithal to actually take a closer look. Those red berries that I wrote off? Turns out, they were not-yet-ripe blackberries. Wild blackberries. Read the rest of this entry…

It felt like rain threatened to come all day. The grey clouds hung around like unwanted party guests who don’t know when to leave. And just when it was clear that they overstayed their welcome, it rained. In fact, it’s still raining now.

No matter. I have something exciting to show you.
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We are having a summer without air conditioning here. It’s not because of the mild weather though — it’s because I am trying to cut down on the electricity we use (summer is our peak usage time) and thus save money. It has the fringe benefits of also being a little kinder to the environment …

… And one that I hadn’t thought of before: we spend more time outside. When you take away the shock of cold air inside and hot air outside, the hot air is way more palatable. Who knew?

“What’s in this? This is interesting.”

That was my husband’s reaction when he tasted the salad tonight. It was a simple mix of baby greens (one bag for $1 at the farmers market today — just enough for one dinner) and a homemade basil vinaigrette. I skipped the cheese and ignored the croutons and just did an ultrasimple salad. And it worked, or I thought it did.

Of course, upon hearing interesting, my mind raced to all sorts of unfavorable places, as minds are wont to do. Did that mean it was simply vile? Gross? Missing some key component? Did my mix of sweet and savory with a hearty dose of basil just spell major F-A-I-L? Would I be totally screwed on my plan of blogging this dressing tonight?

I pretty much had declared culinary disaster in my head. Words like interesting, unusual, different … they will all do that to me. They don’t exactly speak volumes about greatness. Sorry, but I would much rather be told something is amazing.

Fortunately, he went on to tell me that it was “very basil-y, which is good” and had a slight bit of sweetness (yes, it does), which was good too. The flavor is light, but brimming with the sunny freshness of basil. The vinegar and garlic complement the flavors, lending tang and a touch of bite to the dressing. For me, I could totally imagine eating a salad with this basil vinaigrette while digging my toes into warm sand at the beach. It just has summer written all over it.

Turns out, for my husband, that actually wasn’t a bad interesting — he liked it too. Can there be good interesting? I guess so. But he also had one request: next time, don’t skip the homemade croutons and sprinkling of cheese.

I suppose that isn’t too much to ask.

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The other evening was one of those nights. You know the ones: where you just don’t feel much like cooking and really aren’t sure what to make anyway. At first, I was going to do something with chicken and serve it over rice, but midway through the rice cooking process, I realized that I really had zero desire to trim the chicken and pound it into an even cutlet. None whatsoever, in fact.

Then, my thoughts turned to the rice, and a package of cubed ham steak in my fridge (freshly cut and packed at my local grocery store, thankyouverymuch!). Perhaps fried rice with ham? I could just see my husband’s skeptical face through the phone when I told him what I was making … I am sure he was thinking Who puts ham in fried rice?

As I was cooking up the rice, I realized the shredded swiss in my fridge would be a perfect finisher to this obviously Americanized dish. I was so right. Every last morsel of it was devoured.

Serve this up with a fresh chopped salad and perhaps some crusty bread for a wonderful, hearty, comforting meal.

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As I sat down to write this, I learned that Walter Cronkite has died. Cronkite was an amazing journalist and newsman who inspired many young people to research harder, write better and dig to present the public with the clearest picture of the news they could. Tonight’s post is wordless, as it’s the closest to a moment of silence that a blogger can give. May he rest in peace.

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