food that is good for you and your community
Food, Family, and Love
13/12/11 13:15
Every Saturday morning he would arrive. Bearing the freshest from his garden, no doubt picked that morning, my grandfather would come hands full. Sometimes it was ears of corn and a cantaloupe, sometimes bunches of beets or collard green, frequently overflowing paper bags of beans and tomatoes. He would deliver his harvest to my mother and would then sit at the kitchen table—frequently through all three meals—while whatever he had brought was prepared and served. Tomatoes were sliced and served on the plate with lunch. Cucumbers and onions became relishes. Bell peppers were stuffed with tomatoes and corn, and collards found turkey necks and a slow simmer until dinner.
While my grandfather had at some point made the decision to live in the city, his childhood and young adulthood on the farm came with him.
About three quarters of his back yard [about a half acre] was his own personal farm in the city. It never occurred to me that not everyone had fresh produce brought by her granddaddy every Saturday morning. As a small child I began to equate good fresh food, with being taken care of and family. My grandfather was a quiet man, but his love was demonstrative. For him, I love my family meant I feed them my best…
My mother continued this education. As a child, I learned that a well-balanced plate should be both tasty and colorful. All white or brown plates [or even brown and white plates were band in my house. Every plate had colors on it from all over the spectrum. As my mother still says, a colorful plate is a healthy one. I also learned that in good food preparation, attention to detail is key. With a mother who was extremely health conscious, I learned what that final product should be. In the mid-eighties, pre Boca, my mother would shred carrots and zucchini, chop mushrooms and onions, cook bulgur wheat, and lentils, and hand-press veggie burgers to place on homemade bread for young children who wanted to eat McDonald's like all of our friends.
For all of the suffering I thought I went through--lentil loaves for Thanksgiving, carob chip cookies and homemade granola in college care packages--I learned several very important things.
First off, my mother did it because she cared. She loved us intensely, and cared that we learn how to make healthy food choices. For others, I strive to give them the same.
I also had to cook—all kinds of food. I learned how to make all things vegan and vegetarian, as well as how to make a pork loin. If I wanted to eat meat--it was allowed in the house but she wouldn't prepare it—I had to learn to make it myself. I brined my first turkey for Thanksgiving dinner at age 14. I made my first "perfect" fried chicken dinner that same year. With a palate for copying anything I ate, I learned to eat something, and then figure out how to make it myself.
I also learned to appreciate the beauty of simple foods. It was a process of learning how to make food taste good, because the food tasted good, not because it was battered and deep fried, or smothered in cheese sauce.
I love and eat all things, but if it is possible, I could overdose on sautéed kale...
1 bunch of kale [preferably from the farmer's market or your garden--my grandfather's when I was a child]
1 Tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
2 Teaspoons sesame seeds (optional)
Kosher salt to taste (optional)
Fresh ground black pepper to taste (optional)
1/4 cup water [or vegetable broth]
- Wash and chop kale into strips [remove stalks]
- Add kale and water to large pot, cover on medium heat
- When the pot starts to steam, remove lid and add olive oil
- Toss kale in olive oil, remove from heat when all of the water has evaporated
- Add sesame seeds, salt and pepper
- Toss again
- Serve
That's my food addiction and constant craving...
After stumbling through lots of school and working with words and numbers, I am finally getting back to what I know best: food that is good for me and the people that I care about. This is my attempt to bring it to you. This is an invitation to let me feed you, or at least help you learn how to feed yourself.
While my grandfather had at some point made the decision to live in the city, his childhood and young adulthood on the farm came with him.
About three quarters of his back yard [about a half acre] was his own personal farm in the city. It never occurred to me that not everyone had fresh produce brought by her granddaddy every Saturday morning. As a small child I began to equate good fresh food, with being taken care of and family. My grandfather was a quiet man, but his love was demonstrative. For him, I love my family meant I feed them my best…
My mother continued this education. As a child, I learned that a well-balanced plate should be both tasty and colorful. All white or brown plates [or even brown and white plates were band in my house. Every plate had colors on it from all over the spectrum. As my mother still says, a colorful plate is a healthy one. I also learned that in good food preparation, attention to detail is key. With a mother who was extremely health conscious, I learned what that final product should be. In the mid-eighties, pre Boca, my mother would shred carrots and zucchini, chop mushrooms and onions, cook bulgur wheat, and lentils, and hand-press veggie burgers to place on homemade bread for young children who wanted to eat McDonald's like all of our friends.
For all of the suffering I thought I went through--lentil loaves for Thanksgiving, carob chip cookies and homemade granola in college care packages--I learned several very important things.
First off, my mother did it because she cared. She loved us intensely, and cared that we learn how to make healthy food choices. For others, I strive to give them the same.
I also had to cook—all kinds of food. I learned how to make all things vegan and vegetarian, as well as how to make a pork loin. If I wanted to eat meat--it was allowed in the house but she wouldn't prepare it—I had to learn to make it myself. I brined my first turkey for Thanksgiving dinner at age 14. I made my first "perfect" fried chicken dinner that same year. With a palate for copying anything I ate, I learned to eat something, and then figure out how to make it myself.
I also learned to appreciate the beauty of simple foods. It was a process of learning how to make food taste good, because the food tasted good, not because it was battered and deep fried, or smothered in cheese sauce.
I love and eat all things, but if it is possible, I could overdose on sautéed kale...
1 bunch of kale [preferably from the farmer's market or your garden--my grandfather's when I was a child]
1 Tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
2 Teaspoons sesame seeds (optional)
Kosher salt to taste (optional)
Fresh ground black pepper to taste (optional)
1/4 cup water [or vegetable broth]
- Wash and chop kale into strips [remove stalks]
- Add kale and water to large pot, cover on medium heat
- When the pot starts to steam, remove lid and add olive oil
- Toss kale in olive oil, remove from heat when all of the water has evaporated
- Add sesame seeds, salt and pepper
- Toss again
- Serve
That's my food addiction and constant craving...
After stumbling through lots of school and working with words and numbers, I am finally getting back to what I know best: food that is good for me and the people that I care about. This is my attempt to bring it to you. This is an invitation to let me feed you, or at least help you learn how to feed yourself.