There's a long-ass, but so, so, so great, post over at An Accident of Hope about local food. I love some local food (actually I love all things local; it's the result of working at an independent bookstore when The Devil, I mean, B*rns and N*ble, came to town), but it's a slippery slope, man. Once you start noticing what you're eating that's local, it's great: you get to chat with the folks who grew it or made it, there's not petroleum stains on your food, the tomatoes are all the better for living though a winter without them, blah, blah, blah. You know all the arguments, I'm sure. But then you realize you're counting! What's local on my plate today?! And you strive for more - this cheese is from Fredericksburg, but this one, *this* one is from northern Albemarle! Hooray! And then one day you wake up and you see your roommate has bought some grapes. In Virginia? In early June? When there are more strawberries and blueberries and raspberries (from the back yard, no less) than you can shake a stick at? Ack! And they are on a piece of green styrofoam, and shrink-wrapped! And your head explodes.
Meanwhile, here's tonight's dinner. Yes, you know I'm counting. Can't help it.
- black eyed peas, from the market, shelled on the porch
- tomatoes from the farm, beefsteak and flame
- cucumbers from the farm (also in the pitcher of water back there - Best Drink Of The Summer™)
- zucchini bread from one of my home visit families, local zucchini from their CSA, not sure of the origin of the flour, certainly the sugar wasn't local- but damn, that's some good zucchini bread
- local beer, used to be brewed just a couple blocks west, but now it's in Crozet, I hear
- salt, not local, but delicious
- balsamic, also not local, also delicious
- butter, not local (yes, I have some guilt over not making my own butter)
- lemon in the background, not local *sigh*
- mass o' peppers in the background, from the farm, destiny unknown - I don't like plain peppers that much; I wish they were spicy, but they are not