A New Leaf

Urbanite #58 April 09

By: Tracey Middlekauff

Serious about eating local? Better learn to love kale.

It’s early July, and we can’t take it anymore. We’ve tried our best, but it’s just not working out. We must never, ever see anything green again.

My husband and I signed up for a summer’s worth of produce from One Straw Farm, an organic grower in White Hall. For more than a month our fridge had been stocked with weekly installments of fresh Swiss chard, dinosaur kale, curly kale, romaine, cabbage, green leaf lettuce, and red leaf lettuce, punctuated with an occasional bunch of beets (yum), strawberries (wow!), or radishes (yuck).

And we ate every bit of it. We put it in soups, casseroles, and salads. We ate it sautéed, smothered, simmered, stuffed, baked, and broiled. But we longed for variety. For novelty. “Enough!” we said. No more greens.

So we did what any childish adults would do. We rebelled. We went to the grocery store and piled our cart with every disgusting thing that came in a box or a bag: egg rolls, jalapeño poppers, cheese enchiladas, stuffed shells, bean burritos. Nothing green—everything was a glorious shade of beige. And thus began a doomed orgy of microwave dinners.

Our foray into the world of community-supported agriculture (CSA) had started with the most earnest of intentions. While working on writing an (ill-fated) eco-guidebook, I had caught the green fever. We replaced all our light bulbs, bought shade-grown coffee, timed our showers so as not to waste water. I fretted over my carbon footprint.

Next step was to join a CSA. The concept is simple: Before the growing season (sometimes during, for a reduced rate), you buy a share of the expected harvest from a local farmer. In 1990, there were just fifty CSAs in the United States; today, there are more than 2,000. We chose One Straw Farm, Maryland’s largest and oldest organic farm, run by Joan and Drew Norman. For $485, we’d receive eight items a week, June through November. We were so proud of ourselves. We’d be supporting local farmers! Saving the world! We could actually walk to our weekly pick-up site and carry our produce home in bags made from recycled plastic bottles—the very picture of eco-virtue. Eat it, Ed Begley Jr.!

That first week, we weren’t daunted by all those greens. But then came week two … and three … and four. You know the rest. What was going on? I checked the harvest chart on the farm’s website. Where were our zucchini? Our cucumbers? I wanted my snap peas. According to Joan’s farm diary, the profusion of greens had something to do with rain, or cold, or groundhogs. Also, it turns out that One Straw Farm is in the Hereford Zone, which can get colder than York, Pennsylvania. Whatever! I’m not the farmer, I figured—can’t you just grow what I want?

Flash forward to our mushy microwave feasts. Given all our grousing, you’d think we would have enjoyed this junk-food detour, but instead we just felt sick, bloated, and cranky. We realized that even though we had gotten bored with the same vegetables week after week, all those green-tastic meals were healthy, nutritious, and pretty darn yummy.What was wrong with us? Couldn’t we be satisfied with anything? We were acting greedy, spoiled, selfish, and convenience-crazed. In other words, we were being typical American consumers.

After all, we Americans are used to getting what we want whenever we want it. Strawberries in December? Corn on the cob in February? No problem—just fly it in from Argentina. I want a blueberry, and I want it now. And if we don’t like it, we toss it away. One federal study claims that each American throws out a pound of edible food each day.

The reality is, if you really want to do something good for yourself and the Earth by eating locally and seasonally—and joining a CSA is the perfect place to start—you have to take the good with the bad. That means if a late-spring downpour crusts over the soil and the arugula can’t break through … well, no arugula for you. You won’t get to eat heirloom tomato sandwiches in June, but boy, will you eat some beauties in August. Exorcising the spoiled consumer within also means being creative when faced with heaps of kohlrabi or fennel. But keep an open mind, and you may be surprised at how rewarding it can be.

After our aborted attempt at eating crap, we attacked our ration of greens with an improved attitude. As the weeks went by and yellow squash, basil, and zucchini gave way to broccoli, cauliflower, and hard squashes, we realized how connected to the seasons we felt. We took pride in concocting what we called “CSA-heavy” meals, using as many ingredients from the farm as possible. This led to some successes (African mixed greens stew, spaghetti squash gratin) and a few misses (the abominable black radish chips).

In late October, I journeyed up to One Straw Farm to get a closer look at farm life. When I arrived at the white farmhouse, Joan Norman was on hand to show me around. I tasted fresh peppers—the juiciest I’ve ever had—and picked berries off the vine from the greenhouse. I was put to work picking and bundling mustard greens in the field. As I looked around at the acres of greens, it suddenly hit home that this, right here, was where my food had been coming from for the last five months. Before joining the CSA, I, like most people, didn’t really think about how food got into the grocery store and onto my plate. It just kind of magically showed up.

Now my food had personality, a backstory. It got to my plate thanks to a lot of hard work, and, as corny as it sounds, love. And I couldn’t imagine disrespecting the food—much less the people who grew, picked, packed, and delivered it—by wasting it or throwing it in the garbage.

The season ended in November, and over the winter we continued to buy locally whenever possible. But it’s just not the same. We miss our weekly allotment of vegetables from the farm. I know that this spring I’ll get sick of kale again and whine when things don’t go my way—it’s just my nature. Nonetheless, I can’t wait for June to roll around: Bring on the greens.

—Tracey Middlekauff wrote about sampling a variety of group exercise classes in the October 2008 issue.

RECIPE
Swiss Chard Frittata

Each Sunday, we used all our leftover vegetables from the week in a frittata. This easy Swiss chard one turned out to be our hands-down favorite, and it goes wonderfully with whole grain toast, (vegetarian) bacon, and a mimosa. And the leftovers make a great lunch the next day.

1 bunch Swiss chard (about 10 leaves, stalks discarded) cleaned, dried, and roughly chopped
½ medium or 1 small yellow onion, chopped
3 –4 cloves garlic (or to taste), minced
8–10 oz. cubed pepperjack cheese
6–8 eggs (cage free, of course) whipped with 1 tbs milk or half-and-half
2–3 glugs of extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit.

In a 12-inch ovenproof skillet, slightly brown the onions in olive oil over medium heat. Add the garlic and sauté for 1 or 2 minutes. Add the chard and sauté until wilted, about 5 minutes.

Distribute the ingredients evenly over the pan and then pour the eggs over top. Gently lift chard with a spatula to allow some of the egg to flow evenly underneath; after this, DO NOT TOUCH. You don’t want scrambled eggs.

When the edges of the frittata begin to cook—after about 2 minutes—gently add half of the cheese, distributing it evenly. In about a minute, place the pan in the oven. After about 5 minutes the eggs will begin to set; add the rest of the cheese. Cook for another 5 minutes or until the eggs reach desired firmness. Let rest for a few minutes before serving.

—T.M.