tanabutler

Well, insomnia was a factor (I was up for no reason at 5 AM), but worse than that was that one of our sweet kitties was attacked by something with claws and fangs. He will pull through, barely, we think, but he spent Friday night in the hospital and came home this afternoon. I don't do well with animal nursing, or this kind of fatigue. I'm sorry, Bond Girl. I hope your weekend is fabulous. I'm certain it was.

I thought you meant your soul is in worse condition. Does it have inlay around the edges?

I like your thinking, Nina. And surely word of mouth among farmer's market regulars counts for a lot.

Don't forget the swap meet! Ours takes place at the Skyvew Drive-In (one of a handful remaining from the Fifties) down the street from me. It's a well-organized event with over a hundred vendors, ranging from the one-timers to the pros. Beyond the usual beat-up aluminum saucepans that only a college freshman would buy, there are tons of other things for grabs. My favorite stall there is the guy who sells imports from Italy. He has no overhead, just nominal rent once a week at the Skyview. His products are stellar, and they're reasonably priced. Win-win. I don't believe claims of "estate" sales, because people are onto that marketing lingo and aren't usually being honest about it. We were poor newlyweds, and big-time yard salers. All week we saw signs "MEGA TURBO YARDSALE! THIS SUNDAY!" Well, we skeedaddled our butts out there first thing in the morning. We were greeted with broken ashtrays, old bowling trophies, stained polyester clothing that hadn't been washed...it was the grossest collection of self-justifying bachelorhood imaginable. Now, in our family lexicon, "Megaturbo" means anything that's a piece of crap. Or especially an assemblage of utterly disgusting and useless items.

Something is badly wonky with this thread when it loads. It lands on the yogurt photos and then scrolls madly, bouncing up and down like a golf ball in a tile bathroom. After about five seconds, it settles down, but never at the most recent post. Did you break the internet, Lisa?

There is a very respected farmer/writer here named Andy Griffin at Mariquita Farm. He doesn't want or need to pay the high cost of being certified organic, because he's been farming for so long that his clientele trust him. It sounds like your parents are the same way. And yes, the ability to interact directly with the customers is one of the best things about a farmer's market. I have had the privilege to photograph about twenty organic farms. The farmers are all great--I consider their work to be as hard as mothering. Every morning they get up and take care of the little things so they'll live. It's mind-boggling, that kind of responsibility and commitment. (I had a baby who slept twelve hours a night and took two long naps in the daytime. I did not work as hard as a farmer. Not even.) I propose t-shirts: "My food was irradiated and all I got was this bizarre skin condition." Well, this is just dumbfounding. At our farmer's markets, the conventional people are less likely to tout it, because they know we're onto them. But they're sneaky: "no spray" could mean they use a different kind of systemic poison. I think my attitude is that all information should be open and permissible, providing there is some kind of way to check on the claims. I don't know what that way would be, but I'm sure you've given it thought. Beautifully put.

Right on, Fat Guy. You should let them know about LocalHarvest.org, so they can get their CSA listed in the national database. If anyone else in the NYC area knows about other CSAs, get them listed at LocalHarvest, too. The more the merrier.

Thanks so much for bringing that to my attention, Dosconz. I posted a link to it over at the CASCC forums, which are brand new. I should print it up and take it down to the farmer's market this morning. Her post is most excellent and informative.

Thanks for linking that. TB. I am a farmer's market junkie: I try to go twice a week, and sometimes three. From her excellent article: 1. Does this mean the word "organic" is forbidden? What about "no spray" and other distinctions? There are varying degrees of chemical contamination--at least at our local farmer's markets (one every day of the week except Monday). 2. I don't even know what to say about that, it's so sickening. Why not list the purveyors who use these revolting ingredients? Couldn't the Times, if not Ms. Planck herself, write an even deeper exposé on these practices? 3. There is a fairly new group in Santa Cruz called CASCC (Culinary Alliance of Santa Cruz County) whose is pretty much doing that. It's a group of food professionals working together to promote Santa Cruz as a culinary destination, but it doesn't stop there. Members include chefs and organic farmers, food artisans, writers, etcetera, who are working together. One chef throws an annual Farmer's Appreciation dinner: he's also the one who buys an entire season's crop of vegetables he likes (from a very grateful farmer). My chef friend, Jim, is getting a lot of press for his Outstanding in the Field farm dinners: it's quite a phenomenon. I'm sure that Greenmarket must be huge (she doesn't mention how much space or how many vendors there are) compared to Santa Cruz county's farmers markets. I suppose the tendency for corruption, for that is what she describes, is greater in the big city than it is here. The article doesn't read like sour grapes to me: she sounds like she's ringing a bell. New Yorkers can decide if it's an alarm or not. I hope they wake up and shake up. Seriously, what can locals do to effect change?

Well, if this isn't the weirdest, strangest, most comfortable, welcome thread I've seen in a long time. I feel right at home. Well, not that I own a dog or drink coffee or make yogurt or that. But the interior world I recognize. Ms. G., so happy to learn more about you. When I saw your avatar, I assumed it was a photo from the Fifties and that you were a Woman of a Certain Age with a sentimental streak. It's so retro. (Compliments, of course.) Now I find out you wrote a book about the Aubrey/Maturin novels, which my beloved Bob has read from cover to cover to cover times seventeen. I wonder if I can get him to read about food. (I tend to be the one to read the menu and choose for him. I don't roll gutterballs.) And finally, I, too, live in a place where people come on their vacations: tourism is Santa Cruz county's number one industry, I think. (Long Island: I'm a former nanny for one of the weirdest, richest families in Amagansett.)

I am hoping to get up there, but it all depends on things like money and insomnia and willingness and "is there gas in the car?" things. I have Bond Girl's phone number, and she has my gratitude. Right now, given the early hour and the distance, it's less likely. But who knows? I could wake up and be energized with jealousy at your next adventure.

My Williams-Sonoma Savoring India cookbook is exquisite. The recipe photography was done by Andre Martin. Alas, I can't prove it with a link, but trust me, it's as tasteful as everything Williams-Sonoma produces. You can practically smell the food.

I will only be in charge in Seattle if the climate changes. Actually, the week I was there, the weather was 100% sunny the entire time. I have the best vacation weather karma in the world. Where will you put me up? Vintage Park? (I stayed at the Alexis and the Sorrento -- fabulous food at the Sorrento. My God.)

I don't know if I can get up that early. I'd have to leave my house at about 7:00 AM. I'll think about it. Does someone wanna PM me with a cell phone number in case I can come but might be late? Thanks.

You shouldn't have told him it was goo.

I worked at a place in the Catskills in the mid-Eighties: Rudy's Big Indian. It wasn't the worst staff meal by any stretch, but it was the worst for me when they served Mahi Mahi to us. Within twenty minutes, my eyes were sticking out on red stalks, my pulse went to about 160 a minute, and I broke out in hives. Apparently the only thing in the world I am allergic to is Mahi Mahi. It was baaaaaaaaaaaaad. (Antihistamines saved the day, and my life.)

Tag team!

If you Google "Caffeine Saves," you get a lot of links to articles about Coffee Messiah. Like this one. Very entertaining reading. I hate that he lost half his morning business to Starbucks. I saw the shirts: they're awesome, too.

No wonder you're having a hard time sloganeering for coffee. You mean thing. No, I didn't say I never drank it. I did, on a daily basis. If coffee didn't make me feel like I was getting tailgated at my own desk, I'd drink it again. I love the flavor. But trust me, no one wants to meet Mrs. HIDE!

That's utterly brilliant.

I've seen this topic here for days now...and nothing came to mind. I guess I know my limits and don't try my hand at things that are daunting or too difficult. But it just occurred to me. I suck at making coffee. I only have about one cup a year, anyway. I have a machine for guests, and a gold filter, a grinder, and all the accoutrements. But I don't know how to make it. I thought I did, but self-scrutiny forces me to be honest. I don't make good coffee. (I am willing to learn, though.)

Brad, you can have all my coffee. Forever.

Natasha's post reminds me of the horror of having to replenish the hors d'oeuvres table during happy hour at TGI Friday's in my busser days. These completely loathsome bachelor sorts would come in one minute before happy hour, order one cheap tap beer, and stand there and eat dinner, essentially, for two hours, while nursing one beer. One guy was such a weasel...very tall and just oily. He thought he had such a scam going: he'd even put food in his pockets. When I saw him put his half-finished beer on the transom over the doorway before ducking out (presumably to get coked up in his sports car), I removed it and tossed the beer. Happy hours sucked. It was like sticking your arm into a shark tank, trying to get at the table to clean it or fill it up.

Yes. Take me!!

That is such a wonderful sentence that I had to see it twice.