I have more thoughts on lions’ dens and observations of mother-daughter relationships when it comes to body image and self respect, but in honor of my own mother’s amazing ability to stun me with unexpected moments of clarity and compassion, I’m going to give it a break for today and have a nice, overdue, for-love-of-food (and activity!) post.
A few weeks ago, we finally visited the oldest farmers’ market in Florida, and I’d be surprised if it isn’t also one of the largest. When I was 17 I worked a short drive away, and yet somehow never noticed the rows of covered stalls, just off the main road to I-95. The market is open 7 till 7, 365 days a year, rain or shine. Not all of the produce there is locally grown — for instance, we came across some beautiful pineapples that were grown in Costa Rica, but…yeah, we bought one anyway. Very few stalls displayed prices or origin, so you had to cozy up to vendors and start conversations. So, even though not all the food in question came from the same soil we live upon, at least our purchases required getting to know the people who delivered the food to us. I think that the human aspect is one of the most important aspects of eating locally. If I can’t get to know and invest in a specific CSA farmer this summer, at least I can talk to some others about the heat and whether or not it will rain this afternoon.
Can you believe all this produce cost under $30? That’s right, a table full of cucumbers, brussels sprouts, okra, limes, bell peppers, Georgia peaches, tomatoes, eggplants of varying sizes, onions, cantaloupe, pineapple, watermelon — and my two indulgences, a ripe papaya and southern caviar, aka boiled peanuts1 — came in at around $27.
I love all the colors represented here — we’re really only missing blue, and luckily our plates fill in that deficiency.
Pictured above are my uses for the smaller eggplants, brussels sprouts, and okra. I stuffed the eggplant with bulgur, onion, more eggplant, dried apricots, and raisins, and made enough to last for two nights. I (over)browned the sprouts in olive oil, and my mom provided an excellent fruit salad with papaya and the cantaloupe, which was one of the best I’ve ever eaten. I concocted a dry saute for the okra, which received rave reviews, and the rare “can you teach me how to make this?” from Mom. It involved sauteeing thinly sliced onion in olive oil and adding coriander, a smidgen of cumin and cayenne, freshly ground garlic salt, and some lime juice. It really was a treat, if I do say so myself. My mom’s marinated cucumber salad is a summer classic that I always forget how much I like until I have it again after a long break.
Stuffed tomatoes with veggie crumbles, leftover bulgur, garlic, onion, more tomato, and goat cheese served on a bed of whole wheat couscous = more rave reviews. It was the last meal I cooked before I went away to Philadelphia and New York, and my parents pouted at me for abandoning my chef duties for a whole week.
While I am a fan of frozen for convenience and variety, I just love the look of fresh veggies. Plus, they cook up differently, with a great crispness that freezing technology hasn’t yet achieved. Once it has, get me on that train.
The other food-loving going on around here involves Super Charge Me! Cookies from Dreena’s Vegan Kitchen. I have been baking different variations of these for the past few weeks, usually on nights when it’s rainy out and I feel like getting cozy with an oven2. I love how delicious and relatively healthy these cookies are — they’re like oatmeal with fixins baked into a cookie. Each batch usually doesn’t last more than a day or two, but unlike other cookies, I don’t feel gross and bloated even after having two or three in a sitting. Which makes me think that there’s more to feeling bad after overdoing it on processed or butter-heavy treats than just socially conditioned guilt response.
Over the course of experimenting with these cookies, I’ve come to discover the deliciousness that is flax meal (it makes my soy milk creamy in the morning when mixed with cereal!), have had fun mixing different combinations of dried fruit, seeds, and nuts, and have also discovered that almond butter may be the perfect nut butter — its flavor is far more suitable for baking these cookies than peanut butter, and I don’t really prefer the taste of it on its own. So, the result is indulging in delicious cookies with nutty flavor, without feeling the desire to take a spoon to the jar and go to town3 like I do with peanut butter.
The third positive moment of the moment: Today I went to the podiatrist and got fitted for orthotics, which I hope will calm my Rice Krispies knee4. I was inspired by Vani’s decision to get some for herself, rejecting the idea that certain body types (like ours) “just aren’t made for running.” This podiatrist took a good look at my knees, feet, walk, and even looked inside my shoes to see how the lining has been worn and ripped over time, and said he really thinks my knee will respond positively to orthotics5. I’m excited and hope this will be the case — because I honestly miss the challenge of running along a river, and especially want to indulge and revel in the love I have for dancing. Life’s too short not to Jump Around whenever Kris Kross comes on the radio.
Veggies, cookies, and soon-to-be dancin’ feet. Things are looking up.
1: As popularized by the pronunciation “B’AWLD P-NUTS,” and best purchased off the interstate from a ramshackle stand. These peanuts came straight from a giant vat of simmering water. I love them with all the passion due a regional, acquired taste.
2: Not too cozy. It’s an oven.
3: Wherever Peanut Butter Town may be, expect to find me there dancing around like Homer Simpson, taking bites out of streetlamps.
4: Snap, crackle, pop.
5: His assistant slapped plaster on my feet to get an exact mold, which was a surprisingly pleasant experience that I’d highly recommend. (? I know, I can’t explain it. It was just awesome.)
