At home, with a serious head-cold, I feel a bit locked in. By the dishes. And the “unseasonable” fall chill. And the impending house cleaning that makes me want to hop right back into bed! All these things keep me away from what makes me most satisfied in this life, tending the vegetables in the field and in the kitchen.
One of me least favorite new terms of this century, and my beloved Sam will tell you all about it too, is “foodie.” Not that I will ever use that term on myself, but others might. If you want to engage me, ask about dinner, or lunch, or anything you put in your mouth for that matter. Health? Cure it with food. Politics? I say the politics of food. Work? I grow food. Party? I can bring food. I know that there must be a much better and more grammatical term than foodie.
There are times when I go on and on about dinner, and the thirty different dishes I am thinking of making and Sam’s eyes glaze over a bit. I feel the need for an outlet for all my varied ramblings, musings, successes and disasters. Although, I have one, a small one. I run a small CSA program at a farm. Each week I send out an email to our members usually containing some vegetable preparation tips and a few recipes. Honestly, I love it. I will think about recipe ideas to try at home while I am out in the field working. Just yesterday, I could smell the celeriac in the ground and I was fantasizing about celeriac and potato chowder, celeriac pancakes and celeriac remoulade. None of which I have ever made, but I will. And I will post my celeriac efforts, and other efforts, here. With pictures. And musings. And ramblings. The weekly emails are not the proper forum for all that. Mainly because I do not want them to be.
What a perfect day to begin. But first the dishes. Then the vacuuming. Then dinner.