June is Eat Local Triangle month. These participating restaurants have committed to offering at least one totally local dish on their menus for the entire month. More dishes and restaurant to be announced. Check back here soon!

Of course, all dishes are subject to change. Call ahead if you want to confirm.

ACME - Fava bean, mint and goat cheese ravioli
Bin 54 – Heirloom tomato salad, softshell crabs as available and the menu always includes pureed sweet potatoes
Blu Seafood and Bar - From the Seas NC catch with a garden vegetable Succotash and a fresh local sauce
Bonne Soiree – Braised beef with roasted baby beets and cabbage
Carolina Brewery - Summer Brushetta, local red and yellow tomatoes, local greens from the Farmer’s Market, bread from the Pittsboro Bread Shop and local mozzarella from Cornicopia cheese.
Crook’s Corner – Cauliflower Vinaigrette with fresh herbs and a local cheese plate
Elaine’s - Elaine’s braised rabbit & housemade pappardelle w/ baby carrots, arugula & rabbit consommé
Foster’s Market – Roasted white beet salad
411 West – Local mahi with squash casserole, sautéed green beans, roasted Vidalia onions and basil butter sauce.
518 West - Softshell crabs on greens and a corn and olive Vinaigrette
General Store Cafe - Mediterranean Burger with roasted tomatoes, basil, goat cheese and roasted potatoes
Glasshalfull – Chilled red beet and tomato Gazpacho with a mint and cucumber ice
Globe – Farmer’s Market Gazpacho
Hayes Barton Cafe & Dessertery – Fried green tomatoes with a roasted red pepper and shrimp remoulade
Il Palio Ristorante – House made spaghettini carbonara
The Inn at Celebrity Dairy - Strawberry Shortcake
J. Betski’s - Smoked pork chop with braised kale, new potatoes and sweet onion gravy
Jujube – Grilled NC shrimp and zucchini with purslane and a black vinegar and local honey dressing
Lantern - NC pickle plate with ramps, pumpkin, radishes, napa kimchi, turnips and carrots
Lilly’s Pizza - Homegrown salad with local vegetables and herbs
Lucky 32 –Cornmeal crusted NC catfish with Creole Mayo and creamy grits, as well as daily specials
Magnolia Grill - Mapleview buttermilk soufflé pudding with local berries
Margaret’s Cantina - will include local produce, eggs, locally ground flour and corn and NC farm raised trout. Weekend specials will include all local dishes
Nasher Museum Cafe – Fresh mozzarella whole wheat panini with pesto, roasted shiitake mushrooms and tomatoes
Neal’s Deli - Moroccan carrot salad with parsley
Panciuto - Grilled pork chop with baby carrots, broccoli, spring onions, roasted potatoes and pesto
Piedmont Restaurant - Pork rillette with pickled vegetables
Pazzo! Restaurant – Carrboro Farmer’s Market Chowder
The Raleigh Times Bar – Watermelon Gazpacho with grilled watermelon skewers
Rue Cler - Chevre stuffed squash blossom served on sliced purple Cherokee tomatoes
Squid’s – NC shrimp grilled with roasted zucchini, new potatoes, Vidalia onions, arugula and green tomato vinegarette
Tasca Brava - Pescaitos da Horta (“fish from the garden), fried green beans with a garlic aioli and a sherry vinaigrette and strawberry sorbet.
Toast - NC shrimp, housemade pancetta and, radicchio bruschetta as well as daily specials which will be all local
Vin Rouge – all local specials and an all local cheese plate
Vivace Raleigh - Cauliflower sformato with chilled pea soup
Watt’s Grocery - Yellowtail snapper filets stuffed with crabmeat and topped with summer pea and local tomato vinaigrette. Our pasta, made with local flour and eggs, changes often but will be all local all month. I/2 chatham county free-range chicken served with market squash casserole and sauteed snap beans
The Weathervane – Daily specials will have an all local dish such as: NC grouper on sautéed Asian greens, tomato relish and lemon pepper fettucini
Zely & Ritz - Goat Cheese Wrapped with Swiss Chard and Green & Red Tomatoes

A couple of Sundays ago we met up for a Slow Food Triangle Potluck. Little did we know a storm was on its way to Alamance county at the exact moment all ~100 of us convened. As soon as we placed the last dishes on the outdoor tables situated on Alex and Betsy’s beautiful Peregrine Farm, storm clouds gathered and the the sky turned a malicious dark gray.
As the first drops began to fall, Betsy made a generous announcement that we would retreat to their house to enjoy the dishes members had prepared. Here are a couple of snaps from the event by Kirk Ross of the Carrboro Citizen and Lud fame as well as the recipes we have thus far. Send yours in to info@slowfoodtriangle.org or send as a comment here!

The Recipes:

BEST Easy Chopped Pork (Eastern NC-style BBQ)
submitted by Ben and Noah of Fickle Creek Farm

1 Pork roast ~ 3 lb ham roast or Boston butt
4 Tbsp olive oil
4 Tbsp honey
2 Tbsp ground cayenne or serrano pepper
Salt, Pepper, Honey and Vinegar to taste

- Spread 2 Tbsp each oil, honey, cayenne/serrano pepper on the bottom of a covered oven dish.
- Place pork roast in dish (if there is one side with a layer of fat, place it with that side up).
- Spread 2 Tbsp oil, honey, cayenne/serrano pepper over the top of the pork roast.
- Cook in oven at 325F until pork starts to falls apart, ~30 min/lb.
- Shred/chop pork.
- Season with salt, black pepper, honey and vinegar to taste.
- Return to turned off oven for another 30 min.

comments: This can be done on a grill for a smoky flavor or in a crock pot on low. Sugar or brown sugar can be used in place of honey.

dish sources: Pork - ham, shoulder or picnic roast - Fickle Creek Farm, Efland NC
Serrano pepper - Fickle Creek Farm, Efland NC
Honey - Fickle Creek Farm, Efland NC

Roasted beets with walnut and Gorgonzola dressing
submitted by Bernadette Pelissier

Roast 1 1/2 to 2 pounds of beets in 425 degree oven using 1 tablespoon olive oil and some salt and peppper. When cooled, peel and slice beets and place in bowl with 1 tablespoon olive oil, salt and pepper to taste.

For dressing, put 2 tablespoons olive oil in hot pan. Add1/4 cup chopped walnuts and cook until browned. Transfer to small bowl and when walnuts have cooled, add 1/3 cup thinly sliced red onion, 2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil leaves, 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar, 2 ounces Gorgonzola cheese and 1/2 light or heavy cream.

dish sources: Beets from farmer’s market. Cream from Maple View, basil from garden. Other ingredients are not local.

Grilled Broccoli w/spring pesto
submitted by Mark Overbay

Large bowl of trimmed broccoli.
1/4 cup olive oil
3/4 cup pesto made from walnuts, basil, garlic, olive oil, and Parmesan

- Fire charcoal under one side of grill
- Toss broccoli in olive oil, using only what you need to coat all the florets
- Place oiled broccoli on other side of grill (not directly over charcoal). Grill broccoli, turning every minute or so, until florets are bright green and slightly charred.
- Let cool 5 minutes
- Toss with pesto and serve.

dish sources: Maple Springs - Ken and Libby
Bluebird Meadows - Stuart and Alice Helga (Durham Farmers’ Market)
Olive oil, nuts, and cheese from Whole Foods Market

Strawberry Trifle
submitted by Fred and Amanda Stipe

A loosely organized melange of local fresh strawberries, locally-baked pound cake; whipped cream; vanilla custard…and a drizzling of rum

dish sources: Carrboro Farmer’s Market: Various local strawberry producers [the strawberries]; “The Cake Lady” [the pound cake]; Mapleview Farms [the dairy products]

Roasted Beet Salad
submitted by Timothy Flynn

simple: roast beets with olive oil at 350 until sweet and cooked. peel beets and slice
place on top of field greens and toss with french vinagrette.
Lay beets on top of salad and sprinkle with goat cheese.
Add croutons for crunch!

dish sources: local beets from Whole foods&nbsp, Goat cheese from France although there are excellent producers close!!

Whole Wheat Sourdough (Desem) bread
submitted by David Leigh

47 oz Whole Wheat Flour
45 oz Water
19 oz Whole Wheat Desem culture
1.2 oz Salt

Mix flour, water and desem until flour is completely hydrated. After 15 minutes add salt and mix to integrate salt evenly. Dough should be very wet, sticky, and batter-like. After 15 minutes stretch and fold. Repeat stretch and fold every 15 minutes for 1 hour and 30 minutes (6 times in all). At the end of this period, dough should have gained strength and integrity. Bulk ferment for 1 hour 30 minutes. Divide into 4 loaves, pre-shape, rest for 25 minutes, then shape and proof for 1 hour and 30 minutes. Bake at 460 degrees with lots of steam for 45 minutes.

dish sources: Whole Wheat flour from Lindley Mills. Whole Wheat Desem culture from Orange County

Shepherd’s Pie
submitted by Melissa Schumacher

1 1/2 lbs ground round beef
1 onion chopped
1-2 cups vegetables - chopped carrots, corn, peas
1 1/2 - 2 lbs potatoes (3 big ones)
8 tablespoons butter (1 stick)
1/2 cup beef broth
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
Seasonings

1 Peel and quarter potatoes, boil in salted water until tender (about 20 minutes).
2 While the potatoes are cooking, melt 4 Tablespoons butter (1/2 a stick) in large frying pan.
3 Sauté onions in butter until tender over medium heat (10 mins). If you are adding vegetables, add them according to cooking time. Put any carrots in with the onions. Add corn or peas either at the end of the cooking of the onions, or after the meat has initially cooked.
4 Add ground beef and sauté until no longer pink. Add salt and pepper. Add worcesterchire sauce. Add half a cup of beef broth and cook, uncovered, over low heat for 10 minutes, adding more beef broth as necessary to keep moist.
5 Mash potatoes in bowl with remainder of butter, season to taste.
6 Place beef and onions in baking dish. Distribute mashed potatoes on top. Rough up with a fork so that there are peaks that will brown nicely. You can use the fork to make some designs in the potatoes as well.
7 Cook in 400 degree oven until bubbling and brown (about 30 minutes). Broil for last few minutes if necessary to brown.
Serves four.

Magic frosting with strawberries

submitted by Rebecca Vidra

1 quart of strawberries (or more, depending on how many berry-obsessed toddlers you are feeding)
1/2 lb of Quark cheese from Chapel Hill Creamery
1 heaping tablespoon of brown sugar
Directions:
Mix brown sugar and quark together to make whipped spread, much like frosting. You could actually whip it a bit to make it even more “airy”.

Dip strawberries into frosting and enjoy!

This easy dessert is actually a favorite breakfast food in our house during strawberry season.

dish sources: Local organic strawberries (we love Eco Farm’s berries), Chapel Hill Creamery Quark cheese

Strawberry and Rhubarb Cobbler with Cornmeal Biscuits
submitted by Sheri Castle

Strawberry-Rhubarb Filling
1 1/4 pounds rhubarb stalks, cut into 1-inch lengths
1 pint strawberries, halved or quartered if very large
1/2 cup sugar
1 tablespoon cornstarch

Combine the rhubarb and strawberries in a large bowl. Add the sugar and cornstarch and toss the mixture to coat the fruit. Spread the fruit mixture into a shallow 2-quart baking dish. Prepare the Cornmeal Biscuit Crust.

Cornmeal Biscuit Crust
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup cornmeal
3 tablespoons sugar, divided
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
5 tablespoons butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes and refrigerated until very cold
2/3 to 1 cup heavy cream
1 lightly beaten egg
1 tablespoon sugar

Preheat the oven to 375º. Whisk the flour, cornmeal, 2 tablespoons of the sugar, baking powder and salt together in a large bowl. Add the cold butter cubes. Use a pastry blender to cut in the butter until the mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs. Use a fork to blend in 2/3 cup of the cream until the mixture forms soft dough. If the dough seems dry, drizzle in more cream. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface until all the loose dough pieces come together. Pat or roll the dough to a half-inch thickness. Cut the dough into pieces and arrange it over the filling. Lightly brush the biscuits with the beaten egg and then sprinkle the tops with remaining 1 tablespoon of sugar. Bake the cobbler until the top is golden brown and the juices are bubbling, about 45 to 50 minutes. Let the cobbler cool for 15 minutes before serving. Top each serving with a small dollop of whipped cream, if desired.

Makes 6 to 8 servings.

dish sources: Carrboro Farmers Market for strawberries, eggs, and rhubarb (I hope!). I grind my own cornmeal. Local cream.

I’ve never seen a coffee bean sold in this area that looks like it comes from anywhere within at least 1,000 miles from here.

by April McGreger, Carrboro, NC  

I got the call.  It finally happened to me.  Someone has deemed me worthy of sharing some of their secrets to finding the “elusive morel.” But not before first asking me take a very serious oath not to tell anyone about the prized spot.  Hunting morels is not as simple as walking into the woods, looking, and picking.  It first requires someone who has an intimate knowledge of the land, different natural habitats, and the weather.  Morels have a very short season, and we’re in the middle of it.  They like rain, but not too much.  Daytime highs in the 60’s or low 70’s and nighttime lows in the 40’s are their favorite temperature range.  However, even when they are plentiful, you may never see them for they are masters of disguise, perfectly camaflouged by forest floor debris.  Numerous stories abound of the frustrated morel hunter who takes a break to rest against a tree and pout about his lack of success only to open his eyes and discover he is sitting in a sea of morels.  

I have had the pleasure of going on numerous mushroom hunts with skilled mycologists but it was always in the fall. This was the first time that I have been led to a sweet spot specifically for spring morels, the most prized of all mushrooms (I’m not counting truffles, here), and have walked away with enough with plans for a meal around them.  And what a meal it was. 

Late Monday night my husband Phil and I got a another call from our friend Grant.  Grant is serious about breakfast.  It seems he had lent a distortion pedal (which clips the normal electic guitar signal to create a distinctive rock sound) to his friend Ash in exchange for a dozen eggs from Ash’s backyard chickens. He also had a fresh batch of Rwandan coffee from 3 Cups and thought the combo had midweek breakfast potential.  He didn’t know just how much potential until I showed up with my bag of morels and whipped them up with soft scrambled eggs. 

The eggs were so ridiculously yellow (the same color as Grant’s bright golden yellow shirt) that they we ended up talking about them almost as much as the creamy, buttery morels.  The vivid yolks result from the high quality, largely foraged diet of weeds and bugs that Ash’s chicken eat and from exposure to plenty of sunlight.  Even the organic “free-range” eggs that you can buy in grocery stores are fed soybean meal and corn and rarely, if ever, see the sun, let alone any grass or bugs.  Lucky for us, this is the time of year that hens are producing their highest volume of eggs so Ash has enough to share.  Spring and rebirth have been associated with egg celebrations for thousands of years.  It’s no coincidince that we dye and hide dozens of eggs for Easter.  

Spring is about more than asparagus and sweet peas.  It’s time to comb the woods, where poplars and ferns and creeks mingle,  for morels.  Its time to eat more pastured eggs, which can be had this time of year at the farmer’s market even if you’re a late riser.  I think I might try to make a trade of my own with Ash for eggs.  He always asked me about my kimchi.  Foraged mushrooms and traded eggs are community-fortified, spiritual food.  This is my favorite taste of spring. 

 by Whitney Brown, UNC graduate student in Folklore & Community Gardener at the future MLK, Jr. Park, Carrboro

Whitney (left) and Leslie install a wire trellis for the sugar snap peas.

I’ve been paying close attention to the weather. We all have. We’ve   been in severe drought for longer than I can remember. Our lakes have been sad deserts, dotted sporadically with little mud puddles. Carrboro remains in Stage 3 water restrictions. It wasn’t long ago I heard Durham had only sixty days of water left, Raleigh not much more. If the local story has been grim, the global story has not been much better: melting polar ice caps, erratic weather patterns, and climate change filled the headlines of major US papers until primary season began to heat up. Each unseasonably warm winter day gives me global warming hypochondria, grateful though I am for temporary breaks in the frigid monotony. And that’s just the weather! Gas prices, suicide bombers, failing peace agreements, nuclear proliferation, the limping US economy, Sudanese genocide, Chinese contamination, domestic hate crimes… It’s been a long winter, and spring cannot get here quickly enough. Luckily, February has already brought the dual relief of rain showers to parched soil and warm Saturdays even to the coldest of weeks. Now, March is here, and the forecasts mercifully promise more rain to fill our gauges, cisterns, and reservoirs. A break in the drought would be one less thing to worry about.

Two of the community gardens youngest weeders, Casey (left) and Logan sample the wild onions.

For the last month, we’ve been preparing the beds. We’ve weeded. And weeded. And weeded. We’ve shaped and mulched. We’ve enriched the soil with composted “sweet stuff,” as Jay says, using our spades to skim it up from the pathways and onto the beds. (“It’s like a rich, moist chocolate cake,” he says.) One of our most experienced gardeners, Jay is a frequent teacher of new gardening skills and practices to newcomers, which we have practically every week. With his kind, careful guidance I am becoming a gardener. After only a few Saturdays, I understand how to make a good bed. Names and faces–of people, vegetables, and weeds alike–become more and more familiar to me each week. I enjoy the work and am confident in my new skills. Today, however, our tasks will be different. March is here, and spring planting begins. Jay told me weeks ago that our first seeds would go in the ground on March 1, and I have been filled with anticipation ever since. We could be planting crabgrass and I’d still be excited. To think that I’ll be eating what we grow is strange and fascinating.

Unfortunately, after a Friday night house party in celebration of the leap year and International Mustache Month, I awake feeling less than excited about the arrival March 1. Uncharacteristically sluggish, I linger around the house that morning with my coffee and my electronic New York Times. Piddling around in my bedroom, I miss a call from Natalie on the world’s least audible cell phone. She left me a voicemail that saying she couldn’t come to the garden that day, so she’d need me to take care of measuring, spreading, and documenting the sea solids, which we use to naturally amend the soil’s mineral content. I am only too happy to oblige, especially since Natalie gave me over two hours of her Sunday night less than a week ago for my project. I believe in reciprocity, particularly since my involvement with the garden is intimately tied to my search for community in Carrboro. I’m pleased to finally involve myself in something meaningful and, in the process, meet people who aren’t just like me: twentysomething graduate students who celebrate things like International Mustache Month.

Knowing that I have to take care of the sea solids, I have a renewed sense of purpose, so I hurry up. Already thirty minutes late, I finally step out my screen door into another shockingly gorgeous and temperate Saturday. My attitude quickly changes for the better. The night before, I’d worn my ski jacket as I walked to the party with Josh! Now, I have on short sleeves and SPF 50. I race up Hillsborough on my bike, hoping that my gloves don’t fly out the back pocket of my jeans and wondering how we’ve been lucky enough to have such beautiful Saturdays for a month straight.

By the time I arrive, people are already putting seeds in the ground with smiles on their faces. The smell of moist dirt catches my nose, coming to me on a light breeze. It’s sunny and quiet except for chatter among gardeners and birds. A pack of cyclists zips by, taking advantage of the beautiful weather. The chalkboard by the gate is filled with information about today’s work. We’ll be putting in spinach, carrots, and peas, and Sammy is today’s Queenbee (leadership position for which someone from the pool of gardeners volunteers on a rotating weekly basis). Jay, always the most cheerful, welcoming, and energetic of us all, greets me warmly even though he’s battling a nasty cold. Though he’s been looking forward to planting for weeks–as long as I’d known him, actually–he was going to have to leave early that day to wrap up a long, drawn out move, all while sick. We lightheartedly commiserate, agreeing that the older you get and the longer you live in a place, the more stuff you accumulate and the longer the move takes. Jay isn’t his usual self, but I feel an extra energy–maybe an air of excitement–among everyone else in the garden on that particular day.

Our reasons for excitement are many. Certainly I can’t speak for everyone, but with my own hands in the dirt, I feel a tremendous sense of historical continuity, as if we’re performing an ancient seasonal ritual. In fact, we are. Spring planting, timed to coincide with the first signs of gradually increasing sunshine and warmth, is a hopeful time. We hope that the frost will not return to kill our seedlings, but more than anything, coming out of winter–seeing the light at the end of the cold, dark tunnel–is such a relief, even here in the mild Southeast. The crunch of frost disappears from underfoot. Birds sing again. Days generously lengthen. Leaves return to the trees and the flowers begin to color our world once more. Energy and optimism return to those of us they left months ago when winter set in. And soon enough, we’ll all be eating the freshest vegetables, herbs, and berries you can get.

I like to plant, but I love to weed. Not everyone does. Checking the charts and chalkboard in the midst of sorting out the sea solid business with Sammy, I take note of which beds need to be dealt with. Many were weeded and mulched in the preceding weeks, but some remain untouched. I hone in on Bed 3, which will be getting sugar snap peas today. It’s a small bed, maybe fifteen feet long, near the front gate. I don’t know what grew there last year since we rotate crops to prevent soil exhaustion and I’ve yet to decipher rotation patterns, but it already has a tall metal framework of stakes dividing the bed down the middle lengthwise. The peas will climb this as they grow. From where I stand at the gate, I can see bed is weedy, but when I actually get started raking off the mulch, I realize that there isn’t much to this bed at all but weeds and a massive amount of mulch. Underneath it all, Bed 3 itself is puny. It’s narrow and shallow. The soil is more like clay than any bed I’ve worked in the last month. My work is cut out for me. This bed needs love, or our peas are in sad shape indeed. Everybody else is busy planting or planning, so I just get to work without interrupting them.

I painstakingly pull out wild onions, digging deep with my gloved fingers to get the roots that like to break off and then regenerate to mockingly greet you the next week. Grabbing a spade, I begin to forage for better soil in the pathways around the bed. I raked so much uncomposted mulch off the bed to begin with that I now have to be careful not to throw any of that back on as I rebuild. I need rich, black, moist dirt to counter all that light brown clay, but the mulch is piled up everywhere, and I get frustrated. Who put all that mulch on there anyway? What were they thinking? Too much of a good thing applies in the garden too, you know. But I quickly check myself for my lapse into negativity, reminding myself that this is a space for people to learn, and at least those people were here to help in the first place, whoever they were. It wasn’t long ago I had no clue what I was doing, and nobody criticized me…

“What can I do?” asks a new guy a few yards behind me. “Oh…,” Sammy replies as he surveys the garden for suggestions, “actually, see what she’s doing over there? That’s a great idea. Grab a spade, and skim off that top layer of black dirt and throw it on this bed…” Indirect as it is, that’s praise from Sammy to me. Since he is one of the most experienced and authoritative of all the gardeners, his words make me feel even better about what I’m doing. I’m proud that I had a good gardening idea on my own. For once, nobody had to tell me to do it. I feel like a real gardener for the first time since I started.

Before long, I see that Bed 3 is heaping with sweet stuff, and I put the spade aside for someone else to pick up. I try to work with a rake to spread the soil, but the metal frame in the middle proves a major hassle. Forsaking the tools, I bend to my knees to rebuild the contours by hand. It’s a slow process, and this is where the bed gets the extra love it badly needs to make it wider, healthier, more coherently shaped. Soon, I being to feel a special attachment to Bed 3, as if it were my special corner of this cooperative community garden where everything is everyone’s. I patiently work my way around the entire bed, sometimes scooping up more black earth from the pathways, and completely focused on the task right in front me. I am determined to do it well and completely, and I know that I will succeed.

Graduate school, on the other hand, feels like one interminably incomplete thought (not to mention application process), a massive unfinished task looming over me at all times. I love what I do and know I am in the right place, but my eyes are getting fuzzy and my hair is turning grey. Some days I am so tired I can barely carry on a conversation. And there’s always more to read. Everything seems to come at the expense of my sleep, and I’m barely keeping my head above water. By contrast, the garden is full of small, manageable tasks that can actually be completed. Raking, hoeing, weeding, digging, planting, watering, and mulching a bed to perfection in the span of a few hours gives me a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment I can’t seem to find anywhere else just now. The ability to act and affect is powerful and reassuring in a world that is so often overwhelming to me these days.

The garden brings me peace in a way few things can. Lying alone on a beach as the waves wash across the sand and the breeze swirls around me. Sitting on the dock with old friends, dangling our toes in the water as the sun sets across the lake, bringing down another thick summer night. Reading in new spring sunshine on the deck at my parents’ house (the only house I knew until I was eighteen). Watching the sunrise from a car somewhere on a state highway, coffee in hand. Situating me firmly in the landscape and reminding me of the sublime rhythms of nature, sunrise, sunset, seasons, and tides have been happening for eons, and they will continue with or without me. These are the moments in my life when the details melt away, and I am acutely aware of the importance of such moments and the perspective they bring. My body relaxes. Something swells in my chest. I breathe slowly and deeply. I become nothing above and beyond my senses. I am in awe of the universe and my place in it. On the best of days, the garden takes me to this place, and I linger there as long as I can. Some come to the garden to grow affordable, organic food for themselves, some to make a political statement, some to teach children and neighbors, some to see friends, and some for the simple love of gardening, but I am here for my sanity. Bed 3 grounds me, and after thirty minutes working alone on my hands and knees, I am done.

“You wanna do the honors?” Sammy asks encouragingly. While I had stepped away from Bed 3 for a few minutes to measure and spread sea solids in other areas of the garden, Sammy had come in behind me to to cut in the sea solids and feathermeal and then form the furrows for the sugar snap peas with his rake. “You did such a great job on this bed, you should do the planting,” he says. Jay, still here even though he said he’d have to leave early, enthusiastically agrees. I notice that I’m as pleased as a kid receiving lavish praise for bringing home straight A’s or coloring inside the lines. It’s an odd feeling–embarrassing almost–and it hadn’t occurred to me until now how little praise we get as adults. I ask Jay a few apprehensive questions about spacing before taking the waxy paper cup full of partially rehydrated peas and placing them gently into the earth. It’s a simple process, but I do it with great care. Even spacing, proper depth, no wasted seeds or space.

And then it was over. The peas were in the ground, and the soil was tamped down over them with front edge of the rake’s teeth to “tuck ‘em in,” as Jay says. Bed 3 was staked and labeled. I feel exhausted and tranquil. Now, there’s nothing to do but wait. 14 days, to be exact. In the meantime, I wonder, did I do it right? Will they sprout properly? How green is my thumb? Are the sea solids at the proper ratio? Most of all, will I feed my fellow gardeners? Just now, I cannot know, but I have reason to hope. We all do.

After signing up for a winter CSA (Brinkley’s) as a ploy to get veggies into my house regularly - and thereby making it impossible not to eat them without creating major food-waste guilt. And then recently finishing Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, I am motivated to try to feed my family locally.

That said, it’s hasn’t been an easy proposition. I work 3 days (+) a week, have 2 small children (2 and 4) and a husband who values family nutrition (but mostly just in theory, not so much in practice). I can buy locally (with some extra time spent searching for “stuff”), but can I cook it and then can I get my family to eat it?

I am working the cooking angle - having enrolled myself some basic cooking classes from Savor Culinary in Cary. Being a latch-key kid, I didn’t pick up too many skills at home. I do get some local stuff from my farmer each week (Brinkley’s!). But, each night, I get what I like to call cooking stage fright. What can I make?!?!?!

I pour through my cookbooks for key ingredients I have on hand, but I always seem to be missing something. And running out to the store right before dinner time with the hungry kiddoes is usually not my best maneuver.

I am not ready to admit defeat so quickly. I just need to figure out how to get into the groove. To steal a phrase from my daughter “I am working on my (local food) moves!” But, boy do I need some real practice (and a good teacher or teachers).

I have just written a cookbook that is a tight fit with Slow Foods philosophy. For me, family, food, and tradition are inseperable. I wrote “Italian Family Life Cookbook” to cary on my food traditions with my family and share the importance of food traditions with others.
With recipes and stories that are heartwarming, delicious, and easy to follow, I’ve shared my passion for cooking and my love for traditional family values. Whether it’s an Italian Christmas Eve dinner or the “dangers” of garlic bread you will appreciate how food, family and tradition are intertwined.
In “Italian Family Life Cookbook” I explain what it’s like to eat like an Italian in New York, using a combination of beautifully photographed traditional and imaginative new Italian dishes. The recipes are richly illustrated with poignant and humorous stories of growing up Italian, and just for fun, some language lessons on “Speaking Brooklyneze”.
The inspiration for this book came from my daughter who constantly called me for recipes. The easy to make recipes in this cookbook were written with her in mind - someone with minimal cooking experience.
This unique combination of family tradition and recipes is meant to inspire families to build and maintain their own customs. Whether it’s a time-honored eggplant parmigiana or an artichoke and gorgonzola risotto, there is something in this book for anyone who likes to eat!
Nick Verna
615 Beech Hanger Drive, Morrisville, NC 27560
919-454-3750
nickverna@nickverna.com

Author of Italian Family Life Cookbook
www.nickverna.com

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from Bret Jennings:
(Also check out the Eat Local Events page to read about the Local Dinner coming up at Elaine’s on Monday June 25th)
Local produce now featured on the menu includes: english peas, squash, strawberries, radishes, garlic, rapini, beets, sugar snap peas, red potatoes, romaine, arugula, baby carrots, spinach, and collards.  Local meats currently on the menu include pork, N.C. fluke, jumbo lump crab, tuna, shrimp, Georgia quail and local chicken.  Lately we’ve been able to get live softshell crabs each Thursday from the N.C. coast.  They will stay alive for about three days after delivery, so we can serve them through the weekend (pleas call for availability).  We’re also using lots of heirloom grains from Anson Mills in South Carolina: white corn hominy, buckwheat polenta, and grits.  Also, many of you know and love our signature ‘foie gras blt’ made with local baby mache, pickled tomatoes and candied bacon on brioche toast.  If you’ve yet to sample this delicious morsel, make a point to stop in before the end of June.

Here’s some local food thoughts from Tes in Pittsboro.
Keep up, she posts often!
http://truefood.wordpress.com/