Grocery Store Confessional

I got into one of those random conversations with a near stranger in the local Trader Joe's that got me thinking as I walked away. The cashier was speaking to the customer on line ahead of me. The cashier was confessing her lack of attendance at the gym where the customer worked. I piped up and said I have to admit I have never had a gym membership. It's true I am not a gym person, I go occasionally but not religiously like some, I prefer my long rather meditative walks. The cashier cocked her head and said well you're lucky, you're naturally slim. I scoffed at this a bit and it got me thinking.

I am tall, at over 6 feet, I am 60% leg. I weigh between 182 and 190lbs depending on what season I am in. I do not consider myself slim, in fact I most often see myself as slightly pudgy. In reality I am not fat. I have a round belly but my arms and legs are long and fairly free of fat. I have a flat ass, I can't sit on hard chairs without my it hurting. I recognize that my perception of myself may not accurately reflect my physical reality but maybe that's a good thing. Honestly I try not to think about my body as I find my size sort of freaky.

I am not going to confess an eating disorder here, I don't have one. What I am realizing though is that I don't see food as convenient entertainment, I see it as a necessity and it's preparation an artful practice that is orderly and logical and subject to much control. I am not a faddist. I am trying to maintain a healthy body and I have strict beliefs about how to do that. I have that quote on my fridge and the fridges I frequent, "Eat food, not too much, mostly plants". I think before I put things in my mouth and there are many things I simply won't eat any longer. I buy whole foods, meat, cheeses, grains, fruits and vegetables. I have fewer and fewer presto fallback foods. I still get that feeling of wanting something naughty like a doughnut or cake, I generally want the bready or the doughy but if I can just think about it awhile in a rational way I can usually easily dissuade myself from the craving.

Consequently I think a lot about food and what I should eat to keep my intake well balanced and interesting. I have the big picture in my head of what I have generally been eating and what I have eaten on any given day. I carry the macro and the micro view around with me, always weighing the findings. Have I had enough beans or grains, enough cold water fish, too much dairy, too much salt, not enough protein? At the moment I am attempting to train myself away from white flour and sugar which when I went at it hard core before Christmas yielded a 5lb weight loss which was a pleasant side effect. More importantly I noticed that my general anxiety was much less severe because my blood sugar levels were more constant, this is what truly motivates me, a feeling of calm.

I have been accused of being controlling and it's probably true but in a world where we have so little control over most things I feel okay about controlling how I am feeling through diet and exercise. I am less concerned about how I look since my view is fairly distorted anyway it's hard to gauge. If I feel good hopefully I look all right and if my 501's fit me that's ideal. It's funny to realize that others make these assumptions about a person's body. If only that cashier knew that I spend my day weighing and considering what to eat making sure never to have too much, denying myself all sorts of things in the name of physical and emotional enlightenment.

Are you experienced?

Meat birds at 5 Weeks

It's Sunday here where I sit, somewhere it's Monday and I will be thrust into that reality soon enough but until then I will enjoy Sunday. As I sit and write this in my espresso induced sweat my head is full and strangely empty all at once. I feel calm mostly but occasionally have a flash of things that need my attention and I try to add them to the list for the coming week, things I must do, food I must cook, emails I must respond to. For now though we are listening to Neil Young and my husband is sitting across from me the way he does at his house and we have our laptops spread out on the kitchen table and the kid is recuperating down the hall with a semi nasty cough watching endless movies on cable-TV.

I have done nothing to document the chicks development as I had wanted to and time is leaving this idea in its dust. I imagined pages of quaint gestural drawings, spontaneous captivating paintings and daily photos. I even considered building a small lit cove in which I could drop a chicken or two for a couple of real money shots but I have not done any of it. In its place is growing disappointment and harsh words directed inward to the file of things I just never got to. They are six weeks old now, we are on the home stretch, in the next 3 weeks we will organize the butchering day and even though I never thought I had the stomach for this type of activity (and maybe I don't) I am willing myself to fall headlong into the experience. Why not. Why shouldn't I attempt to butcher 27 meat birds at home with borrowed chicken butchering equipment? This has been the work of farm women for millennia why should I be squeamish and spared.

In casual conversation regarding the butchering of various commonly farmed animals the question of what to do with the plethora of nasty bits that we refined North Americans deem un-consumable, it occurred to me that I would be in possession of a treasure trove of chicken feet, a delicacy in the Chinese community. One of the strange features of the Cornish Cross breed are their huge feet and thick legs. In an effort not to waste them I inquired about eating them to my Chinese friend who's old mother is visiting soon. I half expected her to be completely grossed out but instead she waxed poetic about the wonderful experience of eating them as a child, their fried exterior concealing a delicious gelatinous interior. She went on to tell how she had gone with her mother to Chinatown to the chicken butcher where you could choose a live bird and have it butchered on the spot, carrying home the recently live bird in a shopping bag.

So my new fantasy is that this old woman from China via Los Angeles, who has been described as looking like Nelsen Mandela will join us on butchering day perhaps wielding her own cleaver and be our guide. Women working together to shouts in Cantonese and English, and cries of the chickens as their throats are slit while the pile of beautiful yellow legs grows to be taken home and enjoyed for Thanksgiving.

An egg, finally.

Finally, my wretched lazy hens have produced an egg. It's been about a month and half since one was laid, everyone was molting so egg laying was temporarily on hold. I had no idea there was any connection between these two events. A friendly 13yr old in my community filled me in on this and another egg-raiser friend of mine confirmed it. Who knew? I suppose in a perfect egg filled world not all the hens molt at the same time but this year mine did. As my egg supply dwindled I felt increasingly panicked, close to destitute egg-wise. I love the hope eggs embody, one little egg makes a nice healthy meal. I was finally reduced to buying a dozen commercial eggs and they were lame to say the least, pale yellow yolks and runny whites. These eggs are no competition to mine except that there is a constant supply of them. Anywho, I hope to rebuild my egg surplus over the next few weeks, my guests at Christmas will expect to eat a few farm fresh eggs and I will be proud to serve them.

The Week That Was

The juggle is not over yet. I am halfway through the book I am toiling over. It is coming together but with all activities that involve organizing information in a visual framework, anomalies arise and have to be dealt with. Blocks that must be stumbled over and righted. Thank heaven for these long days on my own when I can focus on little else than the project at hand.

Have not been to the farm for days, have not spoken to Nancy. Will try and get down there over the weekend to finish what I started in the greenhouse. All the starts need to be planted out in the field, the pumpkins, lettuce, broccoli, cauliflower, the kale. God save the kale. At least all this shitty rain we have been having is good for my beet seeds because that watering by hand was really sucking. I have a whole new respect for CSA programs at the moment.

Had to light the wood stove tonight, the house was freezing. I refuse to burn anymore propane in there, it's June for pete's sake. The sun did come out late in the afternoon and I went out and let it shine right on me. Mike and Val stopped by with the kids and I gave them some of the surplus eggs. Ever since they moved off the property I have really had to work to give all the eggs away. My new tenant is allergic, dang!


Look at the time, it's time to lay this redhead down. Have a good sleep internet, oh right, you never sleep. Poor thing.

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First Day at the Field

On Tuesday this week I picked Pearl up from school and went over to Nancy's farm. It was our first day of helping out there. The field is located on the Nooksack River that flows through Everson. The whole valley along the river is a rich agricultural area. The soil is clay and sandy and good for growing. Our job on tuesday was to help tie up the 4, 250ft rows of raspberries. Pearl's job was to cut the string for the 3 adults who were tying up the berries. We also cleaned up last years canes out of the rows as well as pulling up great dry stalks of lambs quarters from the previous season. It was sunny and quite windy but totally pleasant. We worked for about an hour and a half, not so long on our first day out. Nancy came over to our house for a bowl of Barley soup and we looked over some seed catalogs to see what we wanted to plant. There seems to be a consensus on Sungold Tomatoes, I wanted some Fingerling potatoes, and Nancy has seed leftover from previous years for cabbage, broccoli, carrots, etc. She suggested we grow a few pumpkins too and said we could carve designs and words into them gently when they were small and the designs would expand as the pumpkins grew. I felt a bit tired from all the bending over and moving up and down the rows but it felt good to have put in our first day in the field.

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Just Grow It!

This is my good friend Nancy. She has a gift when it comes to growing food. Nancy has a great sense of what to grow. I think we have similar taste palettes. She loves purple vegetables, so do I. Life as a farmer is a tough one though and over the past few months we have been talking about the farm and the act of farming and of providing people with food.

For the past few years I have been involved with one CSA or another. Harmony Farms (Nancy's farm) was by far the best for my tastes. This year I decided I wanted to participate a little more in the whole process of growing the vegetables and Nan has been kind enough to invite a few of us over to farm. I've never really grown much food successfully so I feel that it's time and I am looking forward to participating in an activity with purpose that allows me to get my hands down into the earth.

Pearl and I popped down to the farm last night, it's near the Nooksack River in Everson. Nancy showed us around a bit and we talked about what needs to be done to get planting. I want Pearl to learn the importance of being able to grow food. When we were in Vancouver the other day I noticed several gardens in peoples yards, tight spaces where lawns had been, now tilled up earth ready for planting. Vines tied, perennial vegetables acting as decorative borders. Every inch of space dedicated to the effort. And we out here have space, it's disgraceful not to grow a little, eat well, and put some away.

So when I am not home on summer evenings, you'll know where I am.

Quick and Easy Apple Coring for the Neurotic

I am always looking for easy ways to eat well. I think about food and what I am putting in my body a lot. I wouldn't say I have an eating disorder, I have never made myself throw anything up and I am able to stop myself from all out binge eating. I do however get a lot of pleasure out of the high level of control I experience when I am closely monitoring my food intake.

Yesterday, as I ate my healthy brunch of a toasted salmon sandwich with spinach, I turned on Martha Stewart to keep me company. She and her guest were coring apples to make applesauce to go with a pork loin roast. I discovered the most amazing thing, you can core an apple without using the second step of cutting out the cores and wasting some of the apple and most importantly precious time. See diagram below.















So the next time you are standing around in your kitchen avoiding work and looking for something to feed your deep internal hunger, cut up an apple and head back to your desk. It's fast, it's easy and you'll feel virtuous which is good as gold in my warped mind.

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