Fond Memories at the Market

 

According to the USDA, the number of farmer's markets in the United States rose from 1,755 in 1994 to over 6,131 in 2010.In addition to a renewed interest in eating healthy, locally grown foods and getting great bargains(two dollars for over three pounds of beets at this week's West Fork  Garden Market;beat that big box store!), I can't help but wonder if there are some fond memories coming into play here. Remember those fresh potatoes we used to dig before we got too busy for such things? The lettuce you used to snip for dinner before lettuce came cut and prewashed in plastic bags? The green beans that Grandma cooked, that had a snap when you bit into them? I say I wonder because I am not a psychiatrist; certainly not an expert. But when I go each week to the local farmer's markets, fond memories come flooding back to me.

My grandmother(we called her Nanny) was a character by any one's definition. Standing at four feet ten inches tall and presiding over a very large family,she knew how to cook. She loved to fish and she liked to drink. Some would say she drank too much . I suspect she thought she just drank her fair share. She lived to almost one hundred and in later years she cut back to a six pack of beer a day. She obviously had a strong constitution because although sometimes she had a bit of a glow about her, you never thought she was tipsy.

Well into her seventies when I was a teen, she was still crazy about fishing. Donning a pair of waders with a spinning rod in hand, she would spend days in a raging river in search of trout. I was the only kid I knew who had their parents permission to skip school to go fishing with their grandmother. We would go home at the end of the day and she would cook our catch along with whatever was fresh from her garden.

These are a few of my fond memories. My grandmother is gone now as I am sure some of your loved ones are.I hope that summer dishes and your trips to the local farmer's markets bring back some fond memories to you as well!

As follows is my grandmother's recipe for Green Beans and Potatoes. It is not a fancy dish. It's comfort food. You won't find it on the menu of your local gourmet restaurant. But you will find most of the ingredients at this week's farmers markets.

In a large pot, melt half a stick of butter. Add 1/4 tsp. of baking soda and let it foam.

Add about 4 lbs. of  new potatoes and 1 lb. of fresh  picked green or yellow beans.

Cover with water and cook until tender. Add one can of evaporated milk and warm  through.

(Vegan version-Substitute vegan margarine for butter and soy milk for the evaporated milk)

John Ford lives in Winslow, Arkansas. He has pretty much given up hope for a productive garden this year and will be shopping at the local farmer's markets regularly.

This is not about being Vegan.

While I am holding steady and vowing to eat vegan all day today, this column is not about being vegan. I ate vegan all day last Tuesday and while I ate nonstop from the time I got up until I fell into the arms of Morpheus, I was really hungry. I mean REALLY hungry. I was not prepared. Today I am altering my approach and incorporating more peanut butter, hummus, fresh fruit and pasta into my diet. I mean not to whine and am truly grateful that I have food to eat.

This blog is about peace, fellowship, camaraderie, trains, salmon, butter, heavy cream and six different kinds of cheese.

The venue was Northwest Arkansas and the purpose was a couchsurfing.org event. Festivities included a welcome potluck, a costume party, hiking at Devil's Den State Park and then the Great Northwest Arkansas Trailer Trash Luncheon at my chateau(trayla) in Winslow on Sunday. My contribution was the luncheon. I participated in the train trip through the bucolic countryside on Saturday. I begged off the other events. My attentions were focused on cooking and spending time with two dear friends from Norman, Oklahoma who stayed with me at the Chateau(trayla), and who taste tested the dishes for Sunday's luncheon My "guinea pigs" who have been to Peru and know the meaning of the word "cuy".

The totally unvegan but mostly vegetarian menu included cream cheese and salmon spread with horseradish, sour cream, dill and lemon juice, sun dried tomato tapenade, corn, tomato and black bean salad, garam masala deviled eggs, sauteed chiffonade of collard greens with garlic, and baked penne with fontina, Gorgonzola, heavy cream, pecorino romano, mozzarella and ricotta. The five cheeses given to us by a loving god.(Thanks to Ina Garten who has never steered me wrong.)

My guardian angel in Winslow, Jerry Kidder, who has hauled my ass out of the fire on numerous occasions, was gracious enough to procure a very large cafeteria table with sixteen fixed seats from the local school. We rolled it down the hill and wedged it into the trayla. I have a feeling it will be on the deck for a very long time. It is not pretty but I came from Dallas equipped with floor length tablecloths, orchids from Thailand and many bottles of champagne, cabernet and pinot grigio. The theory being that no one would notice that it was a crappy table or a trayla.

The crowd was an interesting one in the spirit of couchsurfing.org. From a one year old baby born to parents of Mexican and Russian heritage, to Lebanese, Chinese, American and Native Indian twentysomethings, and those of us in the fifty and sixtysomething crowd. Someone broke out a guitar, singing ensued. And no, no one sang "Cumbaya" or "Puff the Magic Dragon". We ate and drank for three hours, said our goodbyes and thanked each other for a nice afternoon. Sharing food is a great equalizer. No one cares about what you earn or what you wear, what you drive, who you voted for or how young you are.

I am of the opinion that the acts of sharing food and hospitality are acts of waging peace. These two very basic human needs we all have in common. When you invite someone to share a meal or stay under your tent, you are really telling them that you respect and love them. All differences fade away whether they be age, geographical, financial, political or ideological. The act of sharing hospitality is a unifier.

And in these interactions, discussions about justice and humanity and being humane and respectful invariably do come up. People ask you why you are a vegan or a vegetarian and why you choose to eat a certain way. And in the case of couchsurfing.org, where you are from and where you have been. Who have you hosted, who has hosted you and what have you learned? And you discuss these things and it is not confrontational. You are aware of your surroundings. You share. It is respectful.

So maybe this column is about being Vegan after all. Wish me luck with the peanut butter. I am off to make a rice and chickpea curry from a recipe I saw on Oprah's site.