By Bethesda Locavore, on May 17th, 2012
My CSA is about to begin delivery. I am very excited. I am also aware that I am about to be presented with a situation.
Radishes.
Here, with some turnips. Turnips, I can handle. I do like them roasted. But radishes … oh, what on earth do you do with radishes? I have never, ever, ever liked radishes.
Except once. My brother-in-law, who is sort of a culinary genius, whipped up some brilliant meal a while back that made me sit up and say, WOW, radishes are AMAZING!
And of course he couldn’t remember what he did to make them taste that way. He tried to remember, I tried to recreate it with my beautiful radish/turnip melange, and I got this:
Bleh. That was really, really unappetizing.
What the heck do you do with a radish??
By Bethesda Locavore, on March 9th, 2012
This local eating thing does take some extra time, doesn’t it? I am gradually coming to the painful conclusion that at this point in my life (the kids will be 3 and 6 this summer) we simply don’t have the time for weekend farmers’ market runs, weekend grocery runs, birthday parties, family outings, and . . . → Read More: Really, Who Has the Time?
By Bethesda Locavore, on February 24th, 2012
Monday is a day to Occupy Our Food Supply.
Why, yes. Let’s occupy our food supply. Factories have no business feeding us – that is a job for farmers. Real farmers who care for the land, care for the soil, care for the animals – and who deserve to hold an exalted position in society.
So, in honor . . . → Read More: Occupy Our Food Supply – Go Hug A Farmer
By Bethesda Locavore, on February 1st, 2012
My crocuses are blooming mighty early this year. These crocuses do tend to come out early, so I honestly can’t remember if this is their normal bloom time or not, but either way, it’s got me thinking about this world we live in – this warming globe of ours.
So as I schlep the kids around town in my . . . → Read More: Green and Neurotic
By Bethesda Locavore, on November 22nd, 2011
Oh, Tomatoland, where on earth do I start?
Around the time I started reading Tomatoland by Barry Estabrook, I came upon these end-of-season tomatoes at the farmers’ market. The young guy manning the stand smiled proudly at me and announced cheerfully that he’d picked them himself that morning, that it was his family’s farm. And of course, . . . → Read More: Tomatoland, Part II
