|Me and my mom in her mom's big, open, comforting kitchen.|
Photo: Stephen Orsak
|Hope Shimek of Triple S Traditions.|
|Hoffer's local veggies selection. Just dig for what you want.|
|Our local booty... eggs, veggies, sausage, jams, mustard, beer.|
At home in my third floor apartment with nothing but houseplants the next week, I ate sauteed Swiss chard with fried eggs on top for breakfast. For dinner, I made a small squash casserole and thought about the bounty around Hallettsville. My family and I talked about when the pecans in my grandmother's front yard would be ready and hoped the two family reunions we'd come back for in June timed perfectly with the unusual white Mustang grapes being ripe in the pasture (for jelly and maybe even wine this year.)
I did not grow up on a farm and, in my adult life, I've had my pick of anything and everything at any time from the grocery store in the urban areas I've lived in. But at what sacrifice? I'm trying to now align at least a small sliver of my life with what grows locally and at what time and tie that into my cultural heritage. I'm trying to come full circle back to, not the hardships or limitations of my ancestors, but rather the bounty and the seasonal pleasures. Yes, cooking local is now a lifestyle choice and, frankly, should be a priority. Yes, I recently read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life by Barbara Kingsolver, which definitely informed the writing of this post. And I am grateful to those who've come before me for giving me the ability to indulge in this way.