Holy celery stalks, Batman!

In addition to starting my own garden, I have also decided to welcome Springtime by checking out the Huntington Beach Mercado Certified Farmer’s Market. As a new resident to Huntington Beach and frequent prior visitor, I have driven by this market several times. Finally, I made it my mission this morning to check it out. I dragged Curtis out the door with me (still sleepy), and braved the cold spring wind in hopes of finding some delicious produce.  It was small, and some vendors chose to stay home due to the prior evening’s foul weather. Parking was free but tough to find. There was some activity going on in the Ocean View High School stadium (likely a track meet) that the market was competing with. However, I don’t mind a walk so we parked across the street. Regardless, there was just enough of everything that I needed at this small fair to fill my fridge with vegetabley yumminess and start our day off right.

I am very lucky to live in Southern California, the agricultural epicenter of the United States. Why not take advantage of the lush, fresh produce at my fingertips? Buying from local farmers usually means you are buying the freshest of produce. In some instances, the fruits and veggies are picked just the day before they you purchase them at the market. That sure beats the long haul from in the shipping container when purchasing imports. According to the California Federation of Certified Farmers’ Markets, “elimination of packing, shipping and wholesale costs means both the farmer and consumer save money.” Many farmers who sell at farmer’s markets also refrain from the use of pesticides and other chemicals. While not necessarily USDA Certified Organic, pesticide- and chemical-free production practices are basically what I look for consider eating organic, minus the costs and procedures that full USDA accreditation requires. Do not turn your nose up at a Farmer’s Market that isn’t USDA Certified Organic. Talk to your farmers, ask them about their practices. Get to know where your food is coming from. Market staff or the farmer’s themselves will usually happily answer your questions. There might even be an information booth to answer vendor FAQ’s.

Business aside, the most exciting part about going to the the farmer’s market for me was…duh…the produce!  Ultimate freshness combined with responsible farming practices and the So. Cal. sunshine, and you find some amazingly delicious and potent produce. Even a small market like the HB Mercado had a plethora of in-season fruits and vegetables for low prices. Pesticide-free strawberries (3 packs for $5.00 USD) made my heart sing, especially just having discovered that just recently that these and other berries are on the “Dirty Dozen” list of foods affected most by crop sprays. Also, I’m not a huge fan of celery but today I found the largest and greenest celery stalks I have EVER laid eyes on. They were selling for $2.00 USD so I kind of HAD to buy one (and not even the biggest one there). We also purchased 1.5 lbs of fresh-picked oranges, and a bunch of cilantro.  Total grocery bill today was about $9.00 USD for the freshest, most delicious produce I’ve seen of late. We drove straight home to make a variation of Kimberly Snyder’s Glowing Green Smoothie. I drink it about 5 days a week, and today I substituted an orange, kale, and strawberries in lieu of spinach, an apple, and a pear.

I have to say, Spring eating is pretty awesome. HB Mercado, I’ll be back.

Having moved from a semi-urban apartment in a feral cat village to the suburbs, I have a backyard again.  Oh, the bliss that is living outside of the concrete jungle.  The last garden did not invite much sun, bees, or other signs of chlorophyll.  Also, I lacked the room for a proper planter and slowly strangled my eggplant in a too-small pot.  My little apartment garden didn’t yield much but watching nature take course kept me coming back.  At my new space, which is already so full of vegetation, the potential feels more like an unbridled life source that I can’t wait to get my hands on.

Passiflora as a baby

In last year’s garden, the largest disappointment was my failed cilantro plant.  Herbs generally are easy to grow, so I didn’t anticipate a problem even in small quarters.  I am a cilantro fiend.  The non-starter crop was a huge downer.  Naturally, today my purchases were a bit cilantr0-heavy.  I just had to buy a small cilantro bush in addition to seeds.  One, I want my own cilantro plant like yesterday.  Two, I need seeds to keep the bush going once I can begin to harvest.  The sooner I can get those coriander seeds going crazy, the better.  Also, I bought a started lavender bush, making sure to find the one that already had a flowered stalk.  As for the rest, I bought several seed packs, including romaine and butter lettuce, dill, and cucumber that I planted earlier in starters.  Those puppies are currently on the porch, prepped, and begging for tomorrow’s sunshine.  Being the end of March, this is only the beginning of what I sense will be a fantastic growth period.  As the earth begins to warm and prepare for summer, a whole new array of delicious vegetables and herbs will fall into planting season.  The dry and hot California climate also can’t hurt.

My education regarding gardening is incredibly informal.  While my father has a landscaping background and incredibly green thumb, everything I learned has been from his example and trial-and-error.  A few years ago, upon returning from Israel, I planted a passiflora edulis(passion fruit vine).  During a short visit to Jerusalem, I grew obsessed with passion fruit.

Watch her grow.

I lived with my parents at the time.  Lucky for me, a section of trellis was currently unoccupied (a rarity in their lush yard).  I searched the Internet far and wide until I found a private seller on Craigslist [note:  Home Depot does sell passiflora edulis, but it was out of season].  Within one year, this tiny vine had erupted into a gorgeous, lush monster that has since taken over much more trellis than anyone bargained for.  The yield of fruit during last summer was profound and quick.  The stalks grew like weeds and quickly found friendship with the jasmine on the accompanying fence, the neighbor’s yard, and reached with all its might for the roof.

I highly look forward to watching my new garden grow like my beloved passiflora.  With a stunted eggplant, failed cilantro, and dead-wood stevia in recent memory, I am hoping that my passiflora luck returns.  Something tells me that in this new space, life will attract life.

Olives are a staple appetizer of a traditional Spanish meal. Pictured here are two varieties: in the Basque pintxos style (with toothpicks) or traditional tapas style (without).

I wasn’t a vegetarian in 2005 when I lived in Barcelona, though I now accredit many of my eating habits to my ability to cook diverse flavors (which was learned mostly in Spain).  While not impossible, being a vegetarian in Spain is difficult and not very popular.  One would be hard-pressed to find a meal without mariscos or pork.  Our good friend Isabel, who was quickly revered by our group for her memorable dichos, introduced herself as a vegetarian whose favorite food was jamón…true to any Spaniard’s heart.  After all, this is the country that thinks ham-flavored Lays potato chips are a fabulous idea.

Fast forward to 2011, where I discovered a tool to bring all of my vegetarian Spanish dreams come true.  Some months ago, in Barnes and Noble, I spent the remainder of an old gift card on a heavily discounted yet monstrous cookbook from Spain.  The 1080 Recipes (by Simone and Ines Ortega) cost me only $15.00, marked down from an original $50.00.  The 6-pound brick of recipes was, while for carnivores too, offered over one-thousand recipes (and several of them veg) to sink my teeth into.  Chock full of Spanish fare and illustrations, this book was a resource that this Spanophile could not pass up.  Apparently, it deserves other accolades than my own, as the publisher even refers to it as the Joy of Cooking of the Iberian country.

Garlic, salt, mushrooms, and parsley offer a simple yet tasty addition to any Spanish meal. Did I mention Spaniards love garlic?

My boyfriend’s suggestion to theme our New Year‘s menu after Spain to  mark the book’s maiden voyage was a creative, fun, and very meaningful way for me to finally celebrate the Spanish New Year’s Eve that I never got. I can neither express how delicious everything tasted nor my complete adoration watching him in the kitchen preparing this wonderful meal entirely on his own.  Thank you, Curtis.

To taste Spanish food is to behold oil, salt, and garlic tones.  My roommate always started with cebolla, aceite, y ajo (onion, oil, and garlic) in the pan.  American travelers often complain that Spanish food is plain or boring.  In actuality, it’s just not what many Americans, who might associate Spain with Latin America, would expect.  Our food from Spanish-speaking countries entails diverse spices, heavy textures, and bold, indigenous flavors.  Latin America, in more ways than its cuisine, is not much like Spain.  Spaniards, after all, are Mediterranean Europeans.  They are fishermen, olive farmers, cattle ranchers, bread makers, viticulturists.  The cuisine is much more similar to Southern French than Mexican any day, as it is built upon mild, earthy, and mineral essences.

We began our night as any Spanish cafe might – with olive tapas.  These salty treats were bathed in minced garlic and did not last on the table long.

Curtis chose to prepare for dinner a vegetable risotto main entree and garlic mushrooms as a side.  The risotto carried a creamy texture and rich, savory taste with just enough fluffy eggplant and Parmesan cheese to make my mouth absolutely water.  I observed with camera in tow as Curtis took on this paella-like platter with confidence and ease.

Eggplant, onions, brown rice, and zucchini in a pan, awaiting broth for a Spanish vegetable risotto.

Both dishes turned out simply outstanding.  The Champiñones al ajillo (Garlic Mushrooms) even outshone the delicious eggplant and zucchini dish.  Just to illustrate the impressiveness of these simple yet complex fungi, please take note of my love of eggplant -ahem- all over this website.  The best part of this recipe is that it is so easy to prepare (almost no chopping!), and literally takes 10 minutes to cook.

The standard white mushrooms found in any American grocery store are slightly larger than I believe the authors intended for this recipe.  However, what resulted was that the slightly raw internal texture of the mushrooms added a crisp bite to contrast the softer, moister exterior.  They were complex and, in my opinion, done to near perfection.

Without further ado, here are the recipes from Simone and Ines Ortega from the famed 1080 Recipes.

Rice with Eggplant and Zucchini
Arroz con berenjenas y calabacines

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 2 onions, chopped
• 1 clove garlic, chopped
• 2 zucchini, diced
• 1 eggplant, diced
• 2 cups long-grain rice [NOTE:  We used short-grain brown rice.]
• 5 cups boiling vegetable stock (homemade, canned, or made with a bouillon cube)
• generous 1 grated cup Parmesan cheese
• 1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley
• salt

Mushrooms will never taste the same again after Champiñones al ajillo.

Garlic Mushrooms and Spanish vegetable risotto make for a very Happy New Year!

Photo credit:  taken by the author on 12/31/2011

Cava is a sparkling white wine from the Spanish region of Catalonia.

True are the rumors that attitudes regarding youth and alcohol in Southern Europe tend to be much more lax than in the United States.  While the legal drinking age in Spain is currently 18, it is not uncommon for children to taste wine with the family at dinner prior to that age.  Conversely, American children are widely discouraged from drinking until early adulthood when they reach the beacon age of 21.  While the American practice sends mixed messages that mature drinking depends on a number, the Spaniards instill a belief in their children that drinking is no rite of passage to be anticipated (or abused).  A traditional Spanish table wine, in taste and in practice, represents a drink of the people.  It should be enjoyed tastefully, be accessible, and be down to earth.  Perhaps this is why good wines in Spain are so inexpensive and easy to find.

Catalunya (in Catalan spelling) or Catalonia (in English) is the Spanish province of which Barcelona is the capital.  Aside from being home to many interesting political complexities, it is also the home of the best Spanish whites.  The hot and arid climate is not unlike California – another important region in global wine production.  As an honorary Catalana from 2004-2005, I grew fond of a particular varietal known as cava.  Cava is a sparkling white wine which comes in many versions, including a sharp yet fruity brut similar to a brut champagne.  At about 3,00€ a bottle in 2005 (about $5.00 USD), one could share a crisp bottle of delicious, high quality, cava -full of dry yet playful apple and apricot tones – for a price unheard of in the United States.  And boy, did we enjoy it again and again.

The dinner party became a popular gathering among my Barna friends.  Our core group included about 6 women from the University of California, San Diego who were studying on the year-long exchange program.  We all lived with European exchange students, Spaniards, or Catalans; our common language in this company was usually Spanish.  Dinners with friends and roommates were one of our greatest opportunities to learn from one another and enjoy each other’s company.  I credit most of my kitchen knowledge and enjoyment to these dinners.  To this day, cooking with friends is one of my favorite pastimes.

My friend’s roommate Isabel, a forty-something nurse who had long lived in Barcelona, was the first to teach me about cava.  Early into our academic year, a few of us were sitting down to a home cooked meal and about to say, “Cheers!” over a 99 centavo liter of Xibeca beer.  At the sight of this, Isabel jumped up, and ran to the kitchen shrieking, “NO!”  Puzzled, and always lost in translation, our nervous stares flitted to one another fearing we had in some way offended her.  Our panic soon turned to laughter as Isa finished her rant.  “¡Hay que brindar con cava!” (“You must toast with cava!”).  She returned with champagne flutes and a bottle of chilled cava, and we had a proper toast before dinner.  Not so much a tradition as a corny joke, we still regarded Isa’s suggestion with favor at the wine aisle after that.  After all, who just has a bottle of bubbly lying around for a rainy day if it ain’t for the average Josefina?

Freixenet Cordon Negro Brut Cava is a popular type of sparkling white wine from northern Spain.

Much later in the year, I took a trip to Pinedés – deep into the wine country surrounding Tarragona.  A friend of mine lived very close to the Freixenet vineyard (pronounced “fresh-in-et”), as I discovered on a sleepy train ride to see her on a gorgeous June day.  Not only due to the breathtaking views of soil and grapes outside my window, Freixenet was always my go-to wine for dinners with friends and special occasions.  This brand was and remains my favorite brand of cava due to its superior quality, crisp bite, and low price.  With its added nostalgic value, I will always prefer it over a classic champagne.  Fortunately, it is such a favored cava that it is even available for purchase in the States in retailers such as BevMo for around $12.00 USD.  When the rare opportunity arises to enjoy the taste of my year in Spain, such as on New Year’s Eve 2011, I allow myself to add a nostalgic cava to the menu and continue the tradition of sharing with friends.

 

Photo credit:  taken by the author on 12/31/2011

The Twelve Grapes of Luck (Las doce uvas de la suerte) is a Spanish New Year's Eve tradition where grapes are eaten at each strike of twelve for good luck.

I live not far from Disneyland and can conveniently view the fireworks show any night from my parking garage.  Something about a low-key dinner at home followed by a special NYE fireworks show simply rang my New Year’s bell.  Curtis planned and executed an extraordinary menu, catering to a Spanish theme inspired by 1080 Recipes by Simone and Inés Ortega.  To wrap up the night, I thought to attempt our very first stab at The Twelve Grapes of Luck.

Spanish tradition states that if one eats a grape at each stroke of twelve at the turn of a new year, (s)he will have good luck the year through.  Las doce uvas de la suerte didn’t quite happen the way I imagined in 2004.  It was 2011.  I wasn’t smashed beyond my wildest youthful dreams in a European discotheque, eating grapes from a cava glass.  No, I was sitting atop my parking garage in the cold, listening to the menacing booms of fireworks that could not be seen, and struggling to count down without Ryan Seacrest.  I never realized the science of it, being that it was always figured out for me.  Times Square, I was lost without you.

Hours before midnight, on a walk for Magnum ice cream bars, we found that a thick fog had invited itself to meddle with our NYE plan.  At first, the mist  promised a more romantic appeal in its potential to illuminate reds and blues through a sultry haze.  As the night grew older, the fog grew vengeful, and certainly too thick to safely hail a cab to get closer.

Atop the cement wall, we scrambled to download countdown apps as the fireworks failed to light up the cloudy sky.  We watched quietly as our cellphones rolled past 11:59.  A hushed “Happy New Year” and a kiss, and the eating of the grapes began without church bells to guide us through each strike of twelve.  I’m sure this is not how the Spaniards envision it.  Despite the circumstances, we did our best to raise grape after grape to our mouths until all twelve were gone.  We sat for a moment, absorbing sounds from celebrations around us.  There was laughter and partying, horns honking and guns shooting.  Without much ado, we squeezed each others’ hands, collected our empty bowls, and went home to rest.  Fresh we awoke and together faced the New Year, luck not required.

Bob's Red Mill Whole Grain Store and Vistor's Center in Milwaukie, Oregon

During my latest trip, she took me to a baker’s paradise (hint:  it’s a red mill owned by Bob). If you guessed Bob’s Red Mill (and got a little excited about it), you and I might get along well.  On a chilly, windy afternoon in mid-November, we wandered down to Milwaukie, Oregon to enjoy the fruits of Bob’s labor.  Although we missed the mill tour (M-F 10:00 a.m. only), plenty of fun was had at the Whole Grain Store and Visitor’s Center a mile up the road at 5000 SE International Way, Milwaukie, OR, 97222.  Of course, plenty of snacks were eaten, too.

Several pounds of grain make up one row of the bulk section at Bob's Red Mill Whole Grain Store and Visitor's Center

My Bob’s Red Mill experience fell nothing short of mind-blowing in the sheer diversity of grain products available.  I knew that Bob’s was a specialty grain company but knew little regarding just how many grains they produced.  According to the website, Bob’s Red Mill Whole Grain Store offers the company’s entire product line.  Much of the available selection I had never even heard of, including Green Pea Flour, All Natural Egg Replacer, bean flours, nut flours, gluten-free everything, and more.  This was an intriguing education compared the the usual suspects of Bob’s Red Mill products one can find in the normal Southern California grocery store, which max out at the usual cookie or bread recipe requirements.  Furthermore, Bob devotes one wing of the store entirely to bulk products – likely to attract the many artsy local bakeries that contribute to the “Keep Portland Weird” mantra.

Bob's Red Mill offers cooking classes, delicious specialty grains, and a country deli experience.

Of course, the Whole Grain Store doesn’t only sell ingredients but also offers a restaurant and baked products to go. We arrived on Friday at 2:55 p.m. only to discover that the restaurant closes at 3 p.m.  The kitchen happily served us (thankfully) and warmed our bellies with delicious corn chowder and deli sandwiches. With the blistery wind outside, the soup, sandwiches, and Bob’s own Multigrain and Seed Corn Chips truly hit the spot.

Gluten-free, organic, vegan, cookie addicts...Bob doesn't discriminate.

The more I learned about the Bob’s Red Mill Product line, the more I was converted. The company’s culture beckons America of yore. It is employee-owned, supports a variety of dietary needs, and provides quality ingredients. They sell to local bakeries, families, national retailers. Despite capital successes, Bob’s feels a little like family.  There is a section of the store devoted to customer-submitted recipes (including doggie treats), free for anyone to take. The sharing doesn’t stop when you leave the store, however, as they also have a thriving blog and recipe database.

Now he's just tugging on my heart strings with that 25 lb. bag of chocolate cake mix.

While I was disappointed to learn that we had missed the mill tour, a stop in the Bob’s Red Mill Whole Grain Store and Visitor’s Center satisfied beyond expectation.  The store itself provides enough entertainment for an afternoon to anyone interested in cooking.  The entire place was teeming with delicious specialty grain products, assorted organic flours, and cooking garb.  Certainly, it enticed me to return and catch up with Bob at the mill next time around.

Since I could not find this recipe on the website, I wanted to share the dog biscuit recipe that I found at the store.  Disclaimer:  I have not cooked these biscuits yet and have not fed them to any animal.  It is your responsibility to make sure that you trust this product is fit for your pet’s consumption.

Photo Credit: Taken by the author on 11/11/11 at Bob’s Red Mill Whole Grain Store and Visitor’s Center

However, I did find the following video that particularly stands out and demands its own showcase.  It was some of the only dialogue I captured during my trip, as flashing my camera everywhere didn’t feel quite appropriate in the midst of stark poverty.  This video I captured at the Elmina Slave Castle in Cape Coast on a guided tour.

The castle was a fortress where Africans were imprisoned before being forced on the treacherous trip across the Atlantic during the slave trade. Taking the tour is a must if you are traveling to Ghana. It lasted about 1 hour and gave a tremendous amount of historical perspective to the fortress and the slave trade.

Here is an excerpt I recorded during the tour. This section was taken from inside the men’s dungeon. His voice and delivery sent chills down my spine – so harrowing was the energy.

To even the mood for bringing up slavery, here is a spicy and delicious local recipe from Ghana.

Red-Red (served with brown rice and fried plantains)
2-3 c. dried black-eyed peas
1 large onion, diced
2-3 ripe tomatoes, quartered
1 Bouillon cube (chicken or vegetable)
red or cayenne pepper
cooking oil

Red-Red served at the Hans Cottage Botel in Cape Coast, Ghana

Soak the black-eyed peas overnight.  Rub between your hands to remove the skins and any pebbles.  Rinse, drain, and place in a sauce pot with just enough water to cover them.  Cover the pot.  Bring the BEP to a slow boil, stir once boiling, and simmer for 45-60 minutes (or until tender but not overcooked).

When the BEP are ready, heat oil in a skillet.  Brown the onions.  Add the tomatoes and mash into a sauce.  Stir mixture into the BEP and add the crumbled Bouillon cube.  Add red/cayenne pepper, black pepper and salt to taste.  Simmer everything for 10 minutes. Enjoy.

Photo Credit: Taken by the author in 9/2010
Pictured:  Red-Red, rice, and fried plantains from The Hans Cottage Botel

After a long, stressful week, I woke up on Saturday ready to detox. Thanks to celebrity nutritionist and blogger Kimberly Snyder, I’ve become a big fan of smoothies incorporating fruit AND vegetables. Her Glowing Green Smoothie is lately my go-to food to re-energize my system when I’m dragging or off-balance. It is also a critical factor in her blog and new book The Beauty Detox Solution. I have yet to get my paws on the book but I read her blog almost daily.

I love to throw my own spin on recipes. Usually, I prefer looking around the kitchen before I leave my snuggly apartment to go to the grocery store. This morning, I had a fun time with some of the fruits and veggies that I’ve been storing in my freezer for a day like today. Of course, nothing beats fresh, organic plants in the belly but I have become an expert at Costco shopping for one.

This is my latest version of Snyder’s GGS recipe, fit for Fall. The walnuts, spinach, blueberries, apples, and raspberries have been in my freezer, chopped and ready for blending in baggies and Tupperware. The stevia leaves I freshly picked from my little patio garden [note: I was unable to find out the equivalent measurement for powdered stevia but it can just be added to taste]. Of course, substitute fresh, organic veggies from the farmer’s market if you really want to go the extra mile in taste and sustainability.

Fall Harvest Vegan Smoothie
1 handful walnuts
1 handful raw pumpkin seeds
2 tbs. flax seeds
1 generous grab spinach
1 c blueberries
1/2 c. chopped apples
1/2 c. raspberries
3 freshly picked stevia leaves
2 tsp cocoa powder
1.5 c water
1 banana
Yield: 2.5 pints

Blend! No ice needed as the frozen fruits keep the mixture cold enough.

The nuts and seeds make the texture a little gritty, however I like adding nuts as a binding agent. If you aren’t using yogurt, sometimes I find that veg-only smoothies separate if left to sit for a little while. The nuts also offer a slightly creamier flavor as opposed to your smoothie tasting like a garden salad (not that that’s a bad thing). The cocoa flavor arrives with a subtle and not overwhelming presence – and no bitterness.

The resulting color is dominated by the raspberries – a beautiful light burgundy. I’m enjoying mine in a pint glass from a recent visit with my best friend to the McMenamins Grand Lodge in Forest Grove, OR. My weekend of detoxing officially commenced.

Photo credit:  taken by the author on 11/19/2011

Mixed greens salad with hazelnuts, goat cheese, cranberry raisins, and a lovely balsamic vinaigrette from The Horse Radish in Carlton, OR

I do not eat meat.  For all intents and purposes, I am a vegetarian. However, you will rarely hear me utter the word.  With all of the different kinds of vegetarians out there, I find it funny how this term supposedly indicates more about me than what I use to nourish my body:  boring, environmental, green, twiggy, hippie, hairy, activist, deprived…I could go on and on.  Yet, my lifestyle is no different than any other lifestyle.  It is a collection of values and actions.  No fancy labeling will ever fully describe the uniqueness embodied here, no matter how hard you try.

My dietary change came later in life.  I long adored vegetarianism from afar.  A meat and potatoes girl, I agreed with the earthiness but “could never give up a good steak.”  Much of my time as a meat-eater was guided by the belief that I could not survive without it.  Not until I learned to cook did I consider the infinite possibilities of the meals that I eat.  Now, I sing the praises of foods I never wanted to try in the days B.C. (before cooking).  The more I learned about food, the less I wanted meat to take up space on my plate.  Soon, my ideals matched my ingredients and the meat simply became a memory.

Yet, I only identify somewhat my new dietary status.  Along with other assigned meanings, the word “vegetarian” holds a pompous connotation in the American lexicon.  By definition we are hurting no one, and still I expect some recoil when I use the v-word.  As a voluntary minority, a vegetarian represents a challenge.  Difference makes people uncomfortable; choosing to be different appears superior to the mainstream.  Furthermore, our beliefs are always laid out on the table (quite literally).  The conversation about my ideals may arise anytime I eat.  Sometimes, I welcome it.  Sometimes, I just want to stuff my face.  Well, I always want to stuff my face -but not always amid the peanut gallery.

Labels are helpful in restaurants and potlucks but limiting for us humans.  In the days of yore, I liked eating meat.  The smell still drives me wild. While part of me fears the 7-year itch, part of me knows that none of it really matters.  If I must exist and must act, what makes sense is that I act according to the principles of my choice.  Whatever nomenclature others use to define my actions is out of my control.  The true packaging is one word, and that word is “me.”

Photo Credit: Taken by the author on 11/12/11
Pictured: “Organic Mixed Greens…” from The Horse Radish