There is a movement afoot to develop a more personal relationship with food. A small but vocal minority has shouted “hell no” to the anonymous bread mill that delivers our daily bread. Many are concerned about the environmental degradation that institutional farming and food processing engender. The endless monocultures of chemically sustained corn and soybeans that carpet Middle America leaves our soils barren and require enormous petroleum inputs to sustain. Vast feedlots of cattle, hogs and chickens produce mountains of manure that pollute our waterways and groundwater.
Some are concerned about the questionable wholesomeness of the Western diet with nutrients processed out and complex and sometimes dangerous chemicals processed in. The Western diet has largely been reduced to various combinations of corn, soybeans and chemicals.
The welfare of factory-farmed and processed animals is also troubling, including the unseen cruelty they endure in order to be brought to our table. Cattle, hogs and chickens are confined in teeming enclosures and force-fed unnatural diets. These practices cannot be sustained and enlightened people are looking for alternatives. They are seeking a more intimate and significant relationship to the food we eat and the universe that produces that food. We have attempted to co-opt natural rhythms with science and need to return to sustainable consumption — searching for a way to balance our food karma. A way of eating that allows us to join in a timeless cycle of natural renewal and to participate rather than exploit.
Part of finding a more connected way to cook and eat is dealing with abundance when you are blessed with it and scarcity when nature demands it. The traditional coming and going of scarcity and abundance linked us with timeless rhythms of nature, the earth and ourselves. We had to think and plan ahead. We had to treasure and conserve the abundance. We had to manage and endure scarcity. We had to take what the world gave us and it taught us discipline, reverence and humility. These lessons are harder to come by when we can get anything we want, anytime we want, already prepared, for a few bucks and a small amount of time. I think this convenience and plenitude has made our lives less interesting. We all eat the same things and we eat them all year long. We follow the same diets and talk about food in the same ways. We aren't forced to change our tastes at all. It is entirely possible and, way too common, for a person to eat the same breakfasts every morning, every day of their life. We eat Hot Pockets and microwave dinners and the same frozen vegetable blends in December, June and October. We don't cook anything fresh because that would require understanding and commitment; understanding what we were meant to eat at any given season of the year and commitment to using that food with good sense and integrity.
Eating, loving and work is the three-legged stool that our life is built on. You wouldn't let a marketing director in Omaha decide whom you should love. You wouldn't take a job without knowing anything about the people you will work for. Why would you let strangers thousands of miles away decide what you will eat? We've decided that that part of our life is insignificant or out of our control. But what choice do most of us have?
The choice we have is to ask questions and take action. Attempt to know the pedigree of what you eat. Awaken to the fact that food is of the dirt and moisture and magic of the earth. Attempt to get to know the personalities that have built their life studying that magic and digging in that dirt and drinking in that moisture. This book is an advocacy for human relationships. A return to the understanding of the human effort required to bring you dinner. A respect for that effort and a respect for the simple act of eating are the prerequisites to enjoying these recipes. The farmer, like all of us, has a life of affections and conflict. It's a life she wants to sustain due to a fulsome love of the earth's magic. She brings the result of that life to your table and asks you to give it the same love she has. When this happens, each bite is pregnant with meaning and flavored with significance.
Farmer's markets are everywhere now. In many urban areas there are markets available within a reasonable distance nearly every day of the week. The best of them demand that vendors sell items locally produced and many of them demand that they are certified organic. No matter what type of market it is, you will be able to acquire fresh seasonal items from the farmer who actually grew it. Your groceries will come with a pedigree and personality. Here are some tips for taking the best advantage of farmer's markets.
1. Study and learn what to expect throughout the season. Plan several recipes with the items you expect to be in high season. Prepare the best food at its peak.
2. Go early to get the best selection. Go late to get the best deals when farmers are breaking down and willing to sell at a discount and avoid losing the produce.
3. Try new things. If you see something unfamiliar, ask the farmer how you might prepare it — or buy this book.
4. If you have time and inclination, consider volunteering for the market. Seek out the market manager and ask if there is a role for you. You will learn a lot about seasonality and get to know your group of local farmers.
5. Bring your own bag, basket or cart. Many markets won't allow plastic bags and it will surely be difficult to lug armloads of turnips and sorrel.
6. Bring cash. It's unlikely you will find a credit card machine.
I think the handle CSA is unfortunate. It stands for community supported agriculture, which is fine, but the term does not communicate any of the import and romance of what a CSA is — a community of people that includes producers and consumers in a synergy that cultivates each individual and the land. A group of people freely coming together to share the rewards of a specific patch of ground crafted by God and nurtured by man.
A CSA works by offering a share in the produce of a farm or collection of farms for the season. You pay a fixed amount at the beginning of the season and receive weekly shares of what has become available that week. In late spring you may receive asparagus, fresh greens, baby beets and small tart strawberries. In mid-summer green beans, baby carrots and the first of the tomatoes may be in your box. By late summer, your share is bursting at the seams with summer squash, beautiful large tomatoes, cucumbers, cabbages, and crisp head lettuces. The share money allows the farmer a cash infusion early in the season when cash is tight that will carry him through to the point where he can cash crop his goods in markets and restaurants. It truly allows the farm to be “sustainable;” able to stand on its own without hidden environmental costs or public subsidies. It is an imminently sane and earth-tender system.
The consumers acquire enough value from this arrangement to pay the farmer an amount that sustains him. There is a certain amount of humanity that is natural to that type of arrangement that is not expressed in an acronym. I don't know what would be a better phrase, but encourage anybody interested to come up with one.
CSAs come in all shapes and sizes and most CSA farms also sell in farmers markets and to restaurants. They can focus primarily on identifiable familiar produce or they may focus on unusual varieties and heirloom treats. Some work off of rented land, some off of very old family farms. Some are proudly certified organic and many don't feel the need to be certified. Some raise meat and eggs, some raise only vegetables. And in many cases, several farms will combine in order to allow for a broader selection. They are all a running commentary on seasonality and, as such, bring that beautiful synergy to our lives that I described in the introduction.
You can find CSA resources at your local university extension or by doing a little legwork online. A great starting point for information is http://www.LocalHarvest.org. Or ask around at your local farmers market. In the Midwest, a share typically is $400 to $600 a season and in many cases it is broken into two payments. Over the course of a season, this truly is a bargain for the freshest, most flavorful and healthful food available. This book is designed to help you to take advantage of every bit of food you might receive in a CSA farm share over the course of a season. With some commitment and a little work you can feed your family for the better part of a year.
1. Be prepared to try new things. Buying this book is a great start. You must get out of the habit of eating what you want — when you want — and eat what's available when nature dictates. Most CSAs will have a list of available items from prior years.
2. Many CSAs have a late season storage share that contains potatoes, onions, winter squash, turnips etc. Give some thought to how you will keep this.
3. Make sure the pick-up times and places are convenient for you and find out what happens when you miss a pick-up.
4. It's okay to contact other members and ask them for an evaluation of the farm to help you determine if the farm is right for you. You might also want to visit the farm.
5. Many farms offer a discount on your share if you work on the farm. If this interests you, don't hesitate to ask the farmer.
6. Some CSAs allow a certain degree of choice in you share. If you want have the most choice, be early.
7. Learn how to make vegetable stock (Techniques) and to compost. The stock allows you to capture the flavor and nutrients of even the trimmings and scraps from your share and the compost provides rich fertile soil for another season or for your indoor plants.
8. Take care of your share once you get it. Most produce will degrade in warm conditions once out of the ground. Get it into storage temperature as quickly as possible.