Friday, March 12, 2010

www.sustainableeats.com

This may be my 15 minutes of fame.  If you don't know what I mean, google "Andy Worhale + 15 minutes".


Annette, at http://www.sustainableeats.com/, asked me to be a guest blogger.  I was delighted and honored.  Annette is a very interesting person with all sorts of interesting and stimulating ideas. 

I wrote about my sort of quest to buy only local food and to know where my food came from.  I talked about  two year round, produce-only markets in my area and my imperfect desire to buy all of our fruits and vegetables from them. 


Check it out if you want. 


One leg of this quest involved the decision to buy a pressure cooker.  What is it in our culture that says any real change requires that we buy something new?  During the process, I discovered that some, but not all, of what I want to do next can be accomplished with the stuff my mother and grandmother tried to teach me during my teenage years but that I didn't listen to because I was so cool (big surprise). 

We ended up moving forward without the pressure cooker for now.  But the question persists.  Where does our food come from?  I insist on reaching a point where I know the answer at every turn.  It is up to me to decide whether the answer is acceptable for me and my household.   You may find another answer, which is perfectly fine with me. 


As for part of where I used the 8 pound sack of carrots,






Pickled Carrots. Not my recipe (see link below)  I used it as stated and it is very nice.  The step-granddaughter asked me that the little balls were.  I said they were mustard seed.  She asked if mustard seed grows into carrots.  (She has seen her mother and myself grow seeds into a garden.)  I told her no, mustard seeds add seasoning and flavor.  She is a brilliant and perfect child.

Brought me back to some memory of my grandmother planting red mums in her planter box.  Funny how the mind works.  Probably, I figured some of this stuff out myself about the time that my grandmother changed her planter box plan.


Husband came through the kitchen as usual, sniffing the air, and said the house smells like vinegar. 


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