Eating Greener
Sometime last year, I listened to food writer Corby Kummer on Mars Hill Audio (which my friend Laura describes as "Christian NPR") talking about the link between food and community. The author of The Pleasures of Slow Food, Kummer introduced listeners to the Slow Food movement, an Italy-founded group dedicated to "preserving and promoting traditional foodways--to protecting artisanal food producers and the pleasures of eating well."
After listening, I determined to shop less (and less) at Wal-Mart and to "buy local" more often.
One of my New Year's resolutions this year was to shop quarterly (at least) at the Farmer's Market. And as I reported earlier this week, I've failed miserably at the whole resolution thing so far. But after I wrote that, I took heart--I still had three weeks before I officially flunked that resolution and another like it, to feed my family more green.
So I grabbed my friend, Julie Cramer, and on Thursday at lunchtime we headed to the Dallas Farmer's Market. Julie had never been, which made it all the more fun. (When faced with a new experience, Julie has the enthusiasm of a collie puppy. You may remember my blog entry about our Disney World experience last May.)
The weather didn't hurt. I know officially it's still winter here, but the sun thumbed its nose at the calendar and we were blessed with a balmy 75-degree day.
We passed acres of color and floral aromas as we made our way straight for the green (broccoli, lettuce, limes). Suddenly the world smelled of citrus.
Before long, Julie and I stood amazed at what one Andrew Jackson could buy each of us in sheer fruit-and-veggie poundage.
As it was Thursday noon, the traffic was thin, so every vendor gave us his or her full attention and thanked us profusely for our purchases. When I go to the grocery store, I'm lucky to get a cashier to glance up and mumble hello. Here people greeted us, offered us free samples of pineapple, melon, and pears, and showered us with gratitude when we bought their raspberries or green beans.
Julie and I each started with a twenty, and when we got close to the end, we had only $1.75 between us. As we counted our combined nickels and dimes, a vendor told us, "For two dollars you can buy these red potatoes." She had noticed us eyeing them.
Julie held up the handful of change. "That's the problem," she said. "We have only $1.75. But it's enough to buy two avocados." She pointed to the ones she wanted.
The woman, taking our pooled resources as a sign of serious budgetary deficiency, threw in an extra avocado for good measure. Despite our business attire, she saw poverty and met it with generosity.
Kindness. Friendliness. Generosity. I tried to remember the last time I used those words to describe my grocery-buying experience. And, you know, maybe it's just my imagination, but I think the salad we ate for dinner last night somehow tasted better. I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure the difference was in the avocado.
(P.S. The book winner is Erin.)