Isn't that a contradiction?

...was my brother's response when I told him I went to a raw potluck last night. Well, there was luck (pot?) and delicious food.

(Alright technology, you win. I'll bring my camera more places, and not be too good to stand behind it. )

Vermont feels like a tropical place in the summer time. Humid and lush - it's like during the 6 months of winter the trees are holding in their energy for so long that when the June rains let loose, so does this dark green intensity that has been bursting at the bark for so long.

Rawsome.

What a surfer-dude word. But whatever, I felt it in more ways than one yesterday when I was invited to a raw potluck. The few hard cores thought it was a thrill to 'pop some Durian cherries,' aka share this weird Durian fruit with a few of us who have never tasted it.

Durian (human?) comes from Southeast Asia, and is a super spiny coconut-sized fruit. It gets soft enough where you can simply cut or rip it open though, and then yellow, gooey pods are produced. There are beautiful wooden seeds inside. The flesh is a bit like scrambled eggs, and tastes, well, meaty. And garlicky.

Mmm, not so much.

The aroma goes down your throat and up into your nose. I took two bites and felt a rush of energy to my head, and at first I was worried that maybe I was allergic. But all it felt like was an adrenaline rush. It is supposed to be one of the most energy-filled foods in the world, as well as a hardcore aphrodisiac. I actually did feel the rush (not down there, psssha.)

Rawsome.

Things on the menu -

Claire's amazing chocolate dessert. Must. Get. Recipe.

Taboule without the Barley + mint.

Dehydrated seed crackers with pesto.

Home-made sauer kraut.

Kale salad, with kale-leaf wrappers and delish nut cheese that tasted like cottage cheese.

Pickled beets.....and more.

More than the food, though, it's the people that are inspiring. They're trying something. Trying hard, changing their lives to do better. Better for themselves and the world. Putting energy towards good. It's so wonderful to be around that energy, and to feel like you're contributing to it!

When I'm around a group like this, I feel like these are the modern 'hippies.' In the best sense of that word. Here are the people trying to be socially and environmentally conscious, and making movements through their choices. Raw strikes me as the cutting edge of modernity, yet still upholding the right side of idealism. Phew. Big mouthfuls and explanations.

----------------

Anyway, here is what I brought to share:

Summer Green Bean Salad

1 Pound green beans
1/4 red onion
1 red and 1 yellow pepper
1 c chopped raw almonds
Tblspoon of Raw honey
Juice of one grapefruit
Fresh oregano (parsley or mint would be great)
Olive oil
a bit of salt (probably not needed)

Chop it up, put it all together ;) Easy.

-------------

It was a group of young an old, all inspired, welcoming and thankful.

Lit Crit

Who actually enjoys reading literary criticism?

Reading it usually gives me the same headache as watching Judge Judy. I feel like if some kind of art is bad, it should just be allowed to wither to the wayside. If for some reason it gains a following, it won't taint art, the rest of us will still know it's crap.

I'm putting this out there because it is a required supplement to my application to a creative writing program.

Even when I was editor for the Deli Magazine, we did not want to write negative things. We simply ignored them, and highlighted the positive. It's what the Deli is still doing.

I do not want to be a critic, I want to create. I suppose to create, most of us have to be critics of our own work - so this essay's use must be to prove that we are capable of this way of thinking. As humans, though, we constantly judge to stay alive. It's in our nature. It's a true and tough practice to get away from this.

Should I just write my essay, or some how be snarky and fit this perspective into it?

Local is good, raw is...enlightening?

A couple of my yoga friends, Kyle and George, have been exploring and glorifying in the raw food world. Kyle has been completely raw after an intense switch two years ago, and George has been re-writing the (new) book himself since about January this year.

I have seen some amazing documentaries about the power of raw food - and I believe every bit. I have never doubted int he power of good food, but if you have read some of my past posts, I have explored what 'good' really means. To mean 'good' can sometimes be comfort food, if filled with love and eaten sparingly (if bad for you, I believe every meal should be home cooked, whether in my kitchen or someone elses.) Just in the past couple of weeks, I have really been listening and tasting some of these exotic ingredients. I have yet to add much to my regular diet, besides cacao powder...mmm.

Did you notice the key word in the last paragraph? Exotic. First of all, speaking of some of these supplements uses drug dealing terminology. "Oh! Can you get my some of that? I don't need much, just about $20 worth to try." But that's not the biggie - after my 9 months of exploring local foods and glorifying the healing aspect it's bringing to our community, words like MSM, Maca Root, Deer Antler extract and phyto-plankton strikes me as exactly the opposite of what I am aiming for.

Last night, after watching two youtube videos Kyle posted on Colostrum and this Deer Antler Extract (which I definitely tried last weekend, more on that), I realized that I had been keeping this from my blog, which is all about being Aware of what we/I am eating. What is happening in health food, fads, or even modern breakthroughs, which eating Raw seems to be. Being and awarenivore means seeking, and taking it all in, and using discernment to make the best choices for our own bodies, community and kitchen.

A lot of the localvore diet seems glorify moving closer to our previous agrarian society, which sometimes I take to mean moving away from technology, even backwards towards some idyllic past. Maybe this is just me. Maybe this is also because we seem to equate technology with industry and largeness.

"From our ignorant identification with our ego and its mortality arises man's creativity and his destructiveness, the glory of culture, the horror of his history." - B.K.S. Iyengar

Humans have the ability to create great things, but those things would be greater if the right motivation was behind them. And here is where intelligence comes in. Blind devotion is not intelligence. We were given the ability to use discernment. Discernment is different than judgment. And before I go off into outer space, let's get back to earth and what comes out of it, food.

More on this later tonight...

Making Chili in June, among other things

Another chili story...at least I think there's one down there already...

I am opening a Woodchuck's 802 - yeah, I guess it's past 5 p.m., but I can't decide if this weekend was productive enough for me to be drinking. I suffer from some kind of mania that's guilt driven. I'm also actually thanking the loud music right below my office for scattering my thoughts a bit. Rainy Sundays tend to bring about a lot of thinking, but not so much doing. I did cut Jamie's hair today...and now this officially a diary entry, not so much an 'essay.'

I am glad for the coherent and somewhat organized thoughts about my grad school application that have come back with conviction today. I'm sure this is also thanks to Robynne being back in town, one of the two friends who have recently become Masters in something. :) It's inspiring in a few ways.

I did start a new writing project this week, and I am also in the midst of two books at the same time, both non-fiction.

I am also in the midst of making chili on this rainy, cool June Sunday. I picked the first bounty from our garden this week - though none of it will be going in the chili. We had salads yesterday with the homemade pizza - radishes (see above), spinach and red lettuce, and ate the leftovers again this morning alongside hard-boiled eggs. It is already truthfully supplementing our groceries - perfect timing, because we're both attempting to lay low this summer financially. Umm, until I buy a new (needed) vehicle soon.

Recipe (changes a bit every time):

1 lb Applecheek ground beef
3 cups(?) of a bean assortment, this time simply chickpeas and kidney beans (dried/soaked)
1 onion
1 carrot
2 sml cans of crushed tomatoes
2 tbsp of tomato paste
garlic
salt
red pepper flakes
cayenne pepper
cumin
tons of chili powder
a bit of maple syrup
splash of soy sauce (meaty flavor like worcheshire)
secret first-time ingredient - 1 tbsp or so cacao powder

...and I already can't wait for the sour cream and cheddar to top it with. Umm addicted to dairy.

My good friend Katie just texted me saying that we must be food-psychic, because she's making chili, too. Must be the weather.

Mind drift, cloud shift

Sunday evening, Jericho, vermont, early summer and later Spring all rolled into one.

We've been lucky this year - the last few brought a month-long drizzle in June. There has already been a long, fruitful Spring. I've wandered through my forest for the first time, foraged my first ramps and nettles, and come closer to this spot of land. Its eas because it's so much like my childhood home. Not the hand-made house itself so much, but the dirt roads an the distance I drive to know I've gotten there. The safety in unlocked doors, and in a warm bed upstairs. The same sounds, and the quickly shifting and today dark grey clouds over a green horizon. Adjectives.

I began writing about my dad today, I hope I can keep it up. It's painful already. Perhaps I'm darker than even he was. I've been through breakups before, but this was his second divorce. Perhaps it was softer than the first, or maybe that made it even worse. Thinking about the house I grew up in makes me miss it. And remember thanksgivings so well. The best times with his side of the family. I guess that is where I will go for the next 'chapter.'

Perhaps if I speak less in daily life, words can come more easily on paper. We only have ourselves to experiment with...

Thoughts all over the place, or at least in a few very deep places. I want to write about the progress of the garden. Today I was able to add a few things, before the black flies ingested much of me. I am so glad my dad was able to contribute a lot - he brought me some seed potatoes last week (two are at least starting!), 6 red lettuce plants, of which I can begin to pick at I think for sure. Radishes are going to be the first taste - I could probably pick a couple for breakfast tomorrow...but perhaps I should wait for Jamie. I love to share the first fruits, it's what it's all about.

Kale and freckles lettuce from seed are coming up. Peas really need the fence. Carrots are alive, and the spinach may be worth nibbling on. I planted one cuke and one tomato plant today (as from dad.) As well as two of the three delicata squash, in mounds in the low corners. It's going to get pretty intense in there soon enough. I'm ready!

I transplanted a wild chive, that I believe is the grandchild of the old, big beautiful one that lived near the stone steps. I found it over in the 'rubble' beside the yard, where the gravel a sand was pushed. It may have re-sprouted, and it was my favorite thing in the old steps. Let's hope it takes...I also plan on getting some peppermint to plant among the stones. Let the (semi) wild weeds grow!

So in love with place and person...I am so lucky.

Ancient Futures (is already a book)

"It may be absurd to believe that a primitive culture in the Himalaya has anything to teach our industrialized society. But our search for a future that works keeps spiraling back to an ancient connection between ourselves and the earth, an interconnectedness that ancient cultures have never abandoned." (Helena Norberg-Hodge)

It's this quote that opens a chapter in Three Cups of Tea, the best-selling novel published a few years ago, that I just got my hands on this week.

Today was the second monthly pick-up of our meat CSA from Applecheek Farm. Last month we went through the share pretty quickly it seems - holding a dinner party to celebrate, and another (The T-Bones on the grill alongside raddichio) to soothe a relationship. This month, perhaps we'll get to do the same, though it goes more quickly that way.

Jamie went by the Bluebird Tavern to pick it up from Rocio, farm John's wife, who does the delivery. She is the sweetest woman, and I was sure she wouldn't give him a hard time even thought he meat was labeled with my name. She didn't, and Jamie came home later, happy that he had been more involved. He talked about the experience with rapture, though it was only a few moments. Something like "Why is it so special that we go and pick up our meat from them? I bet this is still a big part of her culture where she grew up!" (Rocio is from Ecuador. Even so, we're speculating.) And I said, "Well, it was a part of our culture only a few generations ago." I think this is true...haha.

In Italy I got another taste of this - it seems like a lot of European cities and towns still center around artisans. The tailor, electrician, cobbler and butcher are still lucrative occupations, and necessary neighbors. I am not sure if the butcher raises the meat himself...not likely since he's probably pretty busy, but I bet he's still good friend's with that farmer. His livelihood depends on the quality of his product and service.

The average current way of living is far from this. Most of us know that now, since stuff like this is a normal discussion around the (Vermont?) dinner table. Here in Vermont, both farmers/producers and consumers are turning away from this model. I wonder what it will do long term? Will Price Chopper no longer be open 24 hours? These small farmer's may have to struggle to stay small, because what we have right now could not feed the whole state...more people would have to take on this as a profession OR at least on a small, personal scale to feed themselves and their families. Modernity must meet practicality and not only 'get back to nature' but go back to what has been ingrained as natural to us for thousands of years. Self-sufficiency and independence with an emphasis on community.

Self-sufficiency - or being a successful farmer - requires skills, and skills are attained through practice. Our lives may have to slow down a tad. This does not mean we can not multi-task. The new future can pick and choose the best from both ways of life - solar panels, modern (or ancient/successful/herbal) medicine and the internet, with the old connection to the rhythms of the natural world.

Who's got ideas?

Peepers and Counting Receipts

Soon after we moved in last May I began collecting my grocery receipts in a small drawer in our kitchen.

It was separate from the 'stuff' draw that Jamie hoped we would not have. I think it's inevitable, because we just have a certain amount of stuff that doesn't belong with anything else, and happens to be small enough to fit in the drawer. You always know what will be in there - lights, scotch tape, twist ties and sometimes AAA batteries, if you're lucky.

But this is not the same as the receipt drawer. A new creation...for me. I was not very diligent about it, and this shows in my results. Still I am always proud when I start and finish an idea, and today I really did sit down and sort them.

Each month it seems I spend an average of 200 bucks on groceries, and at 4 different stores. I have yet to go through and find local stuff, or meat or produce etc...to see the differences there. That will take some detective detail work.

I remember that at the end of last August I really made the switch to buying and eating local produce. This April we joined the meat CSA from Applecheek Farm. I am proud of our changes.....We also already have quite a large garden going...I am proud of the way we have been eating.

These peepers are still going strong. I wonder, which parents told their kids they were insects, and which knew the truth? I'm finding that only about 50% of my friends know which little creature creates that familiar summer sound. I am also wondering how long they will keep on singing their love song. I believe they started early, April at least, and now it's nearly June.

Speaking of the peepers, I had an in-love-with New England moment. My landlord, Pat, had brought over a copy of the lease for us to sign. We're staying another year. I signed on Tuesday, since I was home, and to be honest, I began to have the tiniest anxieties that Jamie would not, until Thursday when I saw his scribble under mine. After a great class, I came home, poured myself a glass of wine, and walked across our front field through the twilight dew to personally hand the document to Pat. I took the long way back, down his gravel driveway, pausing to look over the land as I walked down the small hill into the valley that is Old Pump road. Nostalgia is a silent killer, it's why we're all afraid to make marriages.

I've certainly fallen for this place though - the romance began a while ago, but out of convenience almost. Not that any move in convenient, but the love came because it was supposed to. This week, walking back up my driveway right before dark, the smells of childhood came back. I looked for the constellation of grass in the driveway. I stopped to stare at the birches, and their bright, baby leaves. I sent love to the moss in Hercules' (the bull) pasture. I thought deer thoughts, and wanted to curl up and spend the night with the Earth.

Out there, yes, but true and intense. New England sows it's way into your heart. Many poets have understood this. Robert Frost was bitten.

Well, perhaps I will keep counting, but I've cleaned out one drawer.