Nope.

From her cover shot, I couldn’t tell if I had met her or not.  She was holding a sheep.

My summer reading pile is already toppling over, but in deference to my deep love of Frankie, I decided to give Farm City a try.  Since I am committed to the notion that life is too short for a bad review, I only review books that I love.

And Farm City fits that description.  Part memoir, part textbook, part storybook, Farm City is an absolute page turner that I wished would go on forever.  It is one “eco-freaks” tale of subsistence farming in Oakland, graduating from vegetables to chickens, ducks and bees to pigs.  The works.

It’s a book about farming, and eating, and meaning, that accidentally provides some insight into the human condition.  Part Pollan, part Nabhoff, part Salatin, Novella spins a remarkable story of raising, killing, and eating in her urban terrain.

Her writing is strong and remarkable, and yet a great deal of her West Coast vocabulary had already been introduced to our project by Girl Mark.  What she calls “seed porn,” we already knew as “tank porn,” and what she calls “farm envy” we already knew as “pump envy.”

The book has a whiff of sustainable fuels in that her boyfriend does straight vegetable oil conversions and that she appears to occasionally work at Biofuels Oasis when she needs some walking around money to feed her rabbits.  But the book is not about fuel.  It’s about the human spirit.

And it is a fantastic story.  In her acknowledgements she references Jennifer Radke, who wrote Not a Gas Station, and who is a character in the book, and Lisa Margonelli who wrote Oil on the Brain.

Those of us in the woods of North Carolina, or perhaps the wilderness that is the Eastern Seaboard, cannot help but eat up Farm City.  Despite the fact that we too have chickens and produce and bees and pigs, we long to be as hip as those doing it in Oakland.

Among other things, we can’t ride bikes as much as they do…

• tomatoes, lots.
• eggplant, just a few.
• green beans
• cucumbers and a few more squash
• basil coming out of our ears, let me know if you want a larger quantity for pesto
• chard, lambs-quarters, and amaranth
• potatoes, onions, and garlic from storage

Gazpacho is a cold, raw, tomato based soup that originated in Andalusia, Spain.  It is thought that the Moorish incursion brought a simple peasant’s soup from Muslims to Andalusia consisting of olive oil, water, garlic, and stale bread. Eventually the Spanish broadened the scope of this soup, adding fresh vegetables and herbs to the dish.  Onions, cucumbers, and various herbs were standard fare until tomatoes and peppers made their way over from the New World.  Gazpacho continues to be standard fare in many parts of Spain today, usually of a thin consistency and served as an appetizer.  Thicker Gazpacho, called Salmorejo, is eaten as a main course.  In the United States Gazpacho is best known as a cold tomato soup, but good Gazpacho is much more than tomatoes in a blender.  Good gazpacho is, for one, diverse and, two, features fresh vegetables and quality ingredients like the ones you can find at the BioFarm.  Consistency may vary from smooth and soupy to thick and chunky.  Use your creativity and nature’s seasonal bounty to create a taste sensation to satisfy your palate, your family and friends’ palates and keep you all feeling cool and crisp!

Here are some ideas to get you started:

• The most basic Gazpacho recipe is fresh tomatoes, extra virgin olive oil, green pepper and/or cucumber, vinegar, a pinch of salt and bread.  In Spain it is common to prepare this basic recipe, then provide side dishes of chopped peppers, onions, cucumbers, tomato and fresh herbs like parsley, oregano and basil so that each person can customize their gazpacho.  This could be a great summer party idea!

• If you want a little more guidance for your first batch, here is a quick Gazpacho you can whip up in the blender with proportions provided

2 ½ cups peeled, seeded and chopped tomatoes

1 cup chopped bell pepper

1 cup chopped cucumber

½ cup chopped parsley

½ cup extra virgin olive oil

2 TBL fresh basil, chopped

2 TBLfresh oregano

4 TBL cilantro, chopped

5 cloves garlic

½ large red onion

Juice from half a lemon or 1 TBL apple cider vinegar

Salt and pepper to taste

Balsamic vinegar to taste

Hot sauce to taste

Garnish ideas:  Hard boiled eggs, sautéed scallops, advocado, grilled chicken, pan fried potatoes   . . .   the list is endless!  This soup is a great accompaniment to so many things.

ENJOY!

In addition to lambs-quarters and amaranth greens, which our CSA members should now be getting quite familiar with, sweet potato greens are another rich source of nutrition for the greens lover, so often deprived in the heat of summer when more traditional favorites refuse to grow or succumb too readily to pest pressure (i.e. spinach, kale, mustard greens).

Sweet potato greens can be cooked like any other green – steamed, boiled, sauteed, or stir-fried.  Try this simple preparation:

Bring a pot of water to boil with enough water to cover the leaves. Wash and drain leaves, small tender stems can remain attached. When the water begins to boil, turn off the heat and add sweet potato greens.  After 2 minutes, remove and rinse with cold water. Chop the leaves.

In a large skillet, heat some oil over high heat. Add garlic and chile flakes, cook for 30 seconds, stirring often. Add the greens, stir-fry until tender, 2-3 minutes. Add soy sauce or other flavorings to taste.

• green beans
• tomatoes
• edamame
• summer squash and zucchini
• basil
• chard, lambs-quarters, amaranth greens and sweet potato greens
• potatoes, onions, and garlic from storage

My wife, two kids, and I just returned from our annual pilgrimage to northern California, a land of Eucalyptus and redwoods, mountains and ocean, wine and figs, and, for us, friends and family.  I love this summer season of travel, rest and relaxation, and finding time to connect and reconnect with loved ones.  Our special time included swimming and kayaking, a date night with my wife to San Francisco (our 9th anniversary!), lazy morning coffees and afternoon teas and happy hours, slides and jungle gyms at Tilden Park in the foggy Berkeley hills, knitting and Bocce ball, World Cup soccer and old home videos, and lots of laughter and sharing of stories.  My favorite thing about these family gatherings, however, is the daily ritual of our family’s slow-cooked meals shared at a big, open rosewood table.  These meals were the staple of my childhood, and they remain what I like best about going home.

My mother is, and always has been, primarily responsible for this meal ritual.  She’s an impeccable cross between Julia Child and Martha of the Bible.  Cultivated over years of culinary adventures through lineage (French and Italian genes), travel (we lived in both Europe and Asia several times near Army bases), marriage (my step-father is Filipino), and tasting (we ate fresh, local, and organic before there was a Whole Foods), my mother’s culinary deftness has satiated every hungry soul that came to our family table.  She was committed to gathering her family at this table daily.  This table was also an open table, a table that welcomed every soul who wished to come.  We regularly had guests, especially during the holiday when there were many soldiers (single or without their families) needing a place to taste the comforts and delights of a home.  So too, my mother frequently cooked and delivered warm meals to those who were homebound, sick, grieving, recovering, widowed, and newly-made parents.   It is hard for me to remember a day throughout my childhood where we did not have a meal around that table or offered a brown-bag lunch with leftovers or a homemade peanut-butter and banana and honey sandwich (my favorite).  Her kitchen and her table were her ways of giving, touching, healing, and loving.

Not only have all my mother’s children’s taste buds become spoiled or turned into finicky gourmands, mine included, but all of them have gone on to their own culinary adventures.  My sister, a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America, is a pastry-chef specializing in chocolates and fresh fruit tortes (and did a stint at Alice Water’s locavore standard Chez Panisse in Berkeley, CA); my brother is an organic farmer and an artist who paints huge canvases of beets and radishes; and after a three-year stint as assistant farmer at an organic community-supported agriculture project, I ran a community kitchen that served free, healthy, and yummy food and hospitality for five years before moving to North Carolina in February.  We all can pull our weight in the kitchen, and we all count our greatest temptations (and expenditures) to be the ones we consume and excrete.

I’m also growing deeper in my understanding of the myriad of ways this mealtime ritual has shaped not just our professional leanings but, perhaps more importantly, our worldview, our habits, our sense of ourselves and others, and our relationship with all things sensual and bodily.  As I reflect about it, I would have a hard time naming another source besides that daily liturgy of kitchen, food, and table for my understanding and practice of hospitality, service, intimacy, vulnerability, forgiveness, respect, and joy.

I’m fully conscious that home-cooked meals and regular gatherings around dinner tables are more and more marginal in today’s American culture.  My experience was the gift of the sacrifices of a stay-at-home mom and the culinary twists of fate mentioned above.  Nevertheless, as I savor the goodness of this week’s share of harvest fruits from the Bio-Farm and my family’s gathering this past month in the Sierra foothills of California, my imagination and convictions are stirred.  Although my children Sophia and Corwin will grow to feed themselves, I pray that the hearth of kitchen, food, and table in my own home might similarly shape our children’s culinary adventures and spiritual lives.  Bon appétit.

A family fourth feast - Trevor and family gather around a table of fresh, love-cooked food in California on the Fourth of July.

1 lb. potatoes, cut into eighths

1 lb. green beans, cut into 1″ pieces

2 tsp. Dijon-style mustard

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 Tbs. rice vinegar

2 Tbs. teriyaki sauce

1 tsp. snipped fresh tarragon  or ¼  tsp. dried

½ cup olive oil

¼ tsp. cracked black pepper

2 ripe tomatoes, cut into wedges

1 medium cucumber, peeled and thinly sliced

1 medium sweet onion, cut into thin slices

2 hard-boiled eggs, chilled and quartered

1 medium red or yellow sweet pepper, seeded and cut

into thin strips

I avocado cut into wedges or sliced

12 Kalamata olives

Leaf lettuce

1 can chunk white tuna, drained and flaked or one can of sardines(optional)

In saucepan, cook potatoes and green beans in boiling, salted water for 8-10 minutes or until potatoes are crisp-tender.  Drain; set aside.

For dressing, place mustard, garlic, vinegar, teriyaki sauce, tarragon, olive oil and pepper in blender or food processor.  Blend or process for 10-20 seconds or until thoroughly combined.  Set aside.

To serve, toss together the cooked potatoes, beans, tomatoes, cucumbers and onion.  Place a fourth of the mixture on each of four lettuce-lined salad plates. Garnish with egg, avocado, pepper strips, and olives.  If desired, top salad with tuna.  Drizzle with dressing just before serving. Serve with a crusty, French bread.

This will be an evening show from 7pm to 10pm right here at Piedmont Biofuels in Pittsboro. Admission is $8, refreshments will be served.

For questions or directions email Chris or call 919-704-0549.

The Indy says this about Chapel Hill’s Birds & Arrows:
“There’s a sepia-toned but strong-willed romanticism to the texture- and harmony-rich tunes of Birds and Arrows, the duo of Andrea and Pete Connolly. Inside these pop-righteous, country-graceful numbers, they keep each other awake on long road trips and rejoice even in the sight of peril, one’s voice bolstering the other like lifelong support.”

Wilmington, NC’s Alex Hall, or Big Al was raised in the bread basket of traditional old time and string band music. He fell in love with the raw beauty in the ancient music. Alex quickly saw and felt a likeness between the energy of the rock music and the rowdy old time string bands. He began to focus on songwriting then moved to Wilmington, NC. It was here he began to combine modern sounds with old and record his original material as well as new takes on traditional songs. With two new records coming out in 2010, Big Al Hall has gathered a devout fan base with his high energy shows and earnest songwriting. When the band plays the acoustic jam kids, the rockers and music lovers young and old all turn out to dance, clap and sing along with Big Al Hall!

That’s about the same number that met up last month at Tyler’s Tap Room in Apex.   And about the same number that connected at Mez in Durham.

The idea behind Grease Appreciation Night is for us to reward those restaurants that sign up for our Partners in Sustainability program, and that provide us with the feedstocks we need to make our fuel.

Tonight, in the afterglow of another successful evening, I have several thoughts about this endeavor.  Firstly, it is wonderful to connect drivers (and eaters) with the stuff their fuel comes from.

Secondly, it is great to connect face to face with those folks who are running around on our fuel.  Ward came dinner at Mez, came down to the plant to renew his membership, and while he was at it he arranged for the sale of a Mercedes to Spencer so that Spencer could leave the world of gasoline in the dust.  His new roommate, Jeremy, made it jokingly clear tonight that he could not abide a gasoline powered vehicle in the mix.

Don came out tonight.  He’s an old timer from Sanford who has contributed mightily to our project.  Many of us were delighted to see him again.

Tonight we provided Carolina Brewery with a framed certificate for them to hang in their waiting area.  We can thank Shaine and company for that one.  We sort of stole the idea from Blue Ridge Biofuels in Asheville, who has long been bestowing plaques on their restaurant partners.

Finally, there is another aspect to Grease Appreciation Night that should be noted.  It’s not just that the restaurant gets a crowd.  And it’s not just connecting with old and new biodiesel users.  It is all of that, and it is also just “us.”

Tonight I watched Leif and Rick talk across the table.  Leif designed our plant and oversaw its construction, and Rick is our trickster welder from our Design-Build group.  In their workaday lives they might say hello in the parking lot, but they would rarely have a chance to get down to it with one another.

They got along like a house on fire.  Perhaps it was the award winning beers. Or it could have been the onion rings.  But more likely it was the simple chance to sit across the table from one another and cut loose.

Earlier this month Moya had been discouraged by “Grease Appreciation Dinner” turnout.  She wanted growth.  I pointed out that it was different faces each time and that it was one of the few occasions that I had a chance to talk to Spencer in earnest.

Tonight she came down to my end of the table and agreed. We are a big project.  We seldom get a chance to relax with one another, and “Grease Appreciation Night” is a rare and wonderful time to be together.

• green beans
• tomatoes (read about the history, see recipe ideas)
• chard, lambs-quarters, amaranth greens
• basil – three varieties
• summer squash and zucchini
• edamame
• potatoes, onions, and garlic from storage