Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Strawberries and Asparagus Have Shaped My Life



or reflections on spring


I heard recently that "last night was only as good as your ability to tell about it." Ok so I heard this on the Podcast I am totally hooked on right now: On Being. Kevin Kling said this in his recent interview. He talks about how he developed his storytelling abilities while growing up with a "disability". He talks about how he shapes his stories based on how people ask him about his arm (or arms since a motorcycle accident completely changed how he uses them both now). Their questions tell how they are relating to him and if they recognize him at all. That idea leads to more thoughts on how we recognize people, or do we even see people that we can not relate to?

After the motorcycle accident Kevin talked to some traffic specialist who said that friends and family members of people who ride, see riders. People who don't know anyone who rides, will not see people on motorcycles. Living in Portland I start think of all the cyclist and walkers/runners.... people not in cars or trucks or SUVs. Who sees them and who doesn't.

Then I do what I often do and go on a bit of a tangent. Who else do we not see? Do we see those who are suffering? How about those that are homeless, the person who is no longer considered unemployed because she has been out of work for so long, refugees, people of color, queers, people in wheelchairs, mental illness.... my list could keep going and growing as I am introduced to more and more people. And then I return to food.

How the heck does all this come back to food?

Well many ways actually, and I am having a tough time focusing, so excuse me if I go all over the place, I promise I will attempt to bring this back all around.

I started recognizing the food on my plate more, the more I shopped at farmers markets. Those are the farmers I recognized from some other time. Some deeper time that I vaguely remember in the deep recesses of my mind. Not the farmers that started taking over the food industry and creating monster sized crops with long perfect rows and growing food that looks strangely perfect. The kind of perfect like plastic surgery that superficially creates a beauty that actually kind of creeps my out.

So I met farmers (and continue to meet growers of food) that I recognized. Farmers that tell stories about the food that I see, recognize, and then taste. Plants/food that makes me want to learn more ways to use and preserve that food. And to share those stories, I mean food with other people.

This also pops up for me as spring is trying to win the battle with winter here in Portland. With spring comes a new chapter of food stories. I see it in the nettles growing in my backyard. The Oregon Grape starting to bloom. The asparagus and strawberries showing up in the store....WAIT! WHAT! NO! NO NO NO NO! These are 2 particularly frustrating foods to see prematurely appearing in the store. Asparagus tells about an amazing vegetable that comes up out of the darkness and greats us, in our place and location, at just the right time. And then we have to seize the moment of this food for its relatively brief presence in our gastronomic pleasure seeking selves. Its the introduction to what is to come. Its distinct flavor, shape, and diversity of colors (purple asparagus is one of my favorites) prepares our bodies and taste buds for the bounty that summer can provide. Getting it from Mexico or even S. California is not just cheating the season, its cheating ourselves. Its premature gratification.

As a kid, the 2 things that I can distinctly remember being in my Grandparents' garden is strawberries (always strawberries) and asparagus. They had many other things, but these 2 things told other stories. The asparagus held the stories of care needed and patience and understanding/misunderstanding of what tender meant. Strong thick stalks could also be tender.Small thin spears could explode with flavor.

Strawberries hold different stories all together. Stories mixed with us kids picking them, jumping over them to go play in the yard, eating dessert of strawberry shortcake.... being patient and watching them grow and change colors. Waiting for just that right moment of perfect flavor, and picking it before the birds did. It is a race that I continue to enjoy, and why I always try and have at least a pot of strawberries growing where ever I am living.

Each time, especially the first time every year, these stories come flowing back into my being, as the flavor fills my mouth. And every year I am just a little anxious about that first bite. Am I ready? The asparagus has a different issue: preparation! How am I going to prepare it? I have some favorite dishes, but the first almost always has to be simple steaming with just a little lemon juice, maybe a pinch of salt. Then I like to move on to versions of pasta dishes and experimenting.

These 2 crops I learned as demarcations to what is about to come, whether it is at the farmers market or in the garden. As soon as they appear, I feel like the possibilities for the meals to come are endless. And that is where potlucks come in.

Since I've moved to Portland, nettles have add to the repertoire of food stories. They are like the foreplay of spring. They help us detox as well as wash the palate clean of the winter and prepare my body for the coming greens. And the stories that go along with gathering nettles... where do you go and find them? How much to you like the sting? Have you tried them raw right of the stalk yet?

But what do we do with these stories about food? My favorite place and way to tell food stories are potlucks. Potlucks are the best place to share stories. You get stories of how people arrived (and later the long happy ride home/or to the river/park...), how the dish they created came to them. Sometimes it was passed down from generation to generation (not often in the vegan world however), they just made it up with what they had in the house, something they have wanted to try for a very long long time. Maybe they didn't bring anything because of some great story. The bottle of wine, or special cocktail, or tea blend, soda maker, home brew. But the one thing that they bring, that we can never do with out, is they bring themselves. The take time out of their day and share themselves with us. The story of what  they are thinking or feeling. The stories of their recent celebrations, or frustrations. The latest crush or the "fuck it, I'm staying single forEVER". Or maybe today, they are quiet and listening... maybe that is the dish they always bring, and we can't do without that either. In fact that is the one we can usually learn a great deal from.

This is one way we can learn more ways to connect with more people. We tell and listen to stories. Then maybe we have just a little pinch more of understanding and connection with someone we maybe have never truly seen before.