I’m a woman of lustful tastes. I admit it.
And I like my potatoes like I like my men: Hot, steaming and buttery, with little green flecks on them.
Which may explain my love life.
Liz at Pocketfarm has issued an invitation to eat locally: One meal a week during the 12 weeks of summer, made from local — as you define it — ingredients. It’s meant to be an easy introduction to eating locally, or an opportunity to wallow in the new-grown bounty that might not have been available during last May’s Eat Local Challenge, a chance to find out that this diet is doable and delicious.
I haven’t signed on officially, although Liz has a list of about three-dozen participants, including a few hardcore ELC-ers (you know who you are, even if you didn’t go out and make your own salt, ya sissies). I’m comfortable just knowing that most of my everyday food is local and that every now and then all of the food on my plate is local.
Yesterday, for example. Cranky prepared bowls of steamed new potatoes from Full Belly Farm, slathered in butter from Clover and showered with chopped parsley from the Asian guy at the farmers market (I think he’s from Stockton).
The parsley could just as well have been picked from the pot in my patio, but we had provisions in the crisper that needed a’usin’.
Likewise, the salt could have been my own Fleur de Sel de Marin, but… no, we resorted to Industrial Mega-Corp salt evaporated locally from the same Bay Area water that, in the case of my home-collected salt, scares me just enough that I’m a little nervous about using too much. But I (and countless others) purchase and eat this store-bought sodium daily without a care in the world. Can somebody explain this?
Anyway. Just a simple bowl of local food. Filling. Nourishing.
As satisfying as a roll in the hay with a hot, steaming buttery guy…
Wait, did somebody just say “roll in the hay”? Would that be a homemade wholewheat roll, hot, steaming and buttery, with little green…