My Six-Month Vegetable Journey
While touch and go at first, I now know my veggies — and how to cook them
Remember me? And my journey?
For the past six months I’ve navigated Solomon’s Island Road every Thursday to restock my kitchen with the week’s produce that came in my share of the Community-Supported Agriculture farm I joined in April.
I have embarked on a great food experiment: I am teaching myself to cook, I wrote back then. I know nothing about vegetables beyond the traditional broccoli and carrots. Knowing that I will have to branch out of those comforts if I really want to learn to cook, I decided that the next stop along my culinary journey would be to join Community Supported Agriculture.
The idea was that I’d be forced to try new ingredients, become acquainted with different vegetables and put my self-taught cooking lessons in full swing.
Boy, did I ever.
During the first couple of weeks, it was touch and go. Once, I mistakenly tried to sauté peas without de-poding them. In another discouraging experience, I made a grilled chicken salad from cabbage that I thought was iceberg lettuce. I broke a paring knife trying to slice a thick-skinned squash that I confused with its tender, thin-skinned counterpart. I pushed on, consulted cookbooks, sought family recipes and Googled a lot.
On the plus side, I put together an almost-entirely organic potato salad, produced a pretty tasty eggplant parmesan and made more fajitas and salsa than I’d have imagined. This was primarily a cooking adventure, but I dabbled in mixed drinks and discovered a cucumber margarita that immediately became my cocktail mainstay.
A comforting thought in each culinary adventure was that regardless of how the meal tasted, the nutrients would be unsurpassable. The ingredients were fresh, rich in vitamins and minerals and shy of those not-so-good preservatives.
I’ve also been enlightened as to which vegetables are in season. I remember when I was young, loving the peas from my mom’s garden yet refusing to eat grocery store greens. Until I tasted the veggies from Sizer Farmstead, I never understood why that was. After indulging in six months of locally grown, farm-fresh produce, I get it.
Now when I dine out, I feel more educated about making healthier, tastier choices. Strolling the aisles of the grocery store, I can more easily identify which types of produce may have been brought in locally or regionally.
In 25 weeks, I’ve acclimated myself to the kitchen and discovered a world of new tastes and appreciations.
I’m not the only newbie in this business to know success. Farmer Shawn Sizer, you might remember, was in his first try at running a CSA. Sizer reported that after my article ran in Bay Weekly in April, he received so many inquiries that he decided to increase the number of shareholders next year from 50 to 200. Over the course of the summer, for example, he brought in more chickens to accommodate the egg shares. He, too, learned a lot this summer and we’re both looking forward to what next year has in store.
With one season behind us, we won’t be as green as the vegetables.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Bay Weekly: Learning to Cook
I’m Learning to Cook, One Box at a Time
Each week’s assortment of vegetables will be a new lesson
Bay Reflections
-by
Driving down Solomon’s Island Road, I looked out the window with new appreciation. The traffic of Annapolis behind me, I spent the 20-minute drive pondering the crops that flourished along my route and wondering which of them would be in my box. “Is that corn? I wonder if I’ll get corn.” “Maybe that’s lettuce? I wonder if I’ll get lettuce.”
Oh, the mysteries of belonging to Community Supported Agriculture.
--
For eight weeks I’d waited for this first pickup. Now, at Sizer Farmstead, I followed farmer Shawn Sizer through neatly lined rows. He stopped over the bushes I’d recognized from my drive.
“Would you like some romaine lettuce?” he asked. “I didn’t put it in all the baskets.” When I nodded, relishing in my correct guess, he took what looked like a travel-sized hatchet out of his pocket and whacked at the root. “Here you go,” he said, handing me the plant straight from the ground.
Can’t get much fresher than that.
Kale, spicy lettuce, romaine lettuce, snap peas, strawberries, zucchini and radishes made up my first box. How would I incorporate each into a meal? Was there a website in which I could enter the ingredients I had on hand and find recipes that fit the bill?
Luckily, there is just such a website, searchable by ingredients. I found a vegetable stir-fry over pasta that welcomed nearly all of mine.
But as I put the gigantic box of fresh goods on my kitchen counter, anxiety set in. A newcomer to both farm-fresh produce and cooking, I couldn’t remember which green was which. What were those onion-like vegetables under the gigantic bag of radishes. The things were round and white on the bottom, with tall greens stemming upward. Onions? Or some kind of shallot?
I didn’t know what a shallot was, but I’d heard of it and didn’t want to rule anything out prematurely. How I wished Google had a reverse search application so you could take a picture and search it, without typing in a name. Maybe they were white onions?
However, Googling onion with long stem and round white vegetable with green stalk didn’t identify my mystery vegetable. But after the first chop into it, my eyes welled up with tears and I knew it was definitely an onion of some kind. How different could the kinds be? Surely this one would do well in my stir-fry.
Adding a red and yellow pepper to my fresh kale, peas, zucchini, onions and radishes, I started chopping. Until I got to the peas. In the pods.
Were these snow peas that you eat in the pod or snap peas? I had to make what I call an executive guess. Judging by the toughness of the pod, I decided these would be the kind of peas I needed to extract. After prying open my first pod and sliding my finger down the center to detach all the peas, I felt a sense of accomplishment.
I threw all the ingredients in a sauté pan, along with some garlic, basil from a plant on my windowsill and a splash of extra virgin olive oil. In another pot, the pasta was boiling and next to my glass of wine were fresh strawberries. In minutes, all of the vegetables were tender and the pasta was al dente. I combined the two in a large mixing bowl, seasoned with salt and pepper and voila! My first home cooked, farm-fresh meal.
One taste confirmed my hope: vegetables straight from the farm are worlds apart from their grocery counterparts. I have more vegetables from my half-share, more than my refrigerator would like to accommodate. I am on my way to learning to cook while enjoying a healthier, tastier diet.
Each week’s assortment of vegetables will be a new lesson
Bay Reflections
-by
Driving down Solomon’s Island Road, I looked out the window with new appreciation. The traffic of Annapolis behind me, I spent the 20-minute drive pondering the crops that flourished along my route and wondering which of them would be in my box. “Is that corn? I wonder if I’ll get corn.” “Maybe that’s lettuce? I wonder if I’ll get lettuce.”
Oh, the mysteries of belonging to Community Supported Agriculture.
--
For eight weeks I’d waited for this first pickup. Now, at Sizer Farmstead, I followed farmer Shawn Sizer through neatly lined rows. He stopped over the bushes I’d recognized from my drive.
“Would you like some romaine lettuce?” he asked. “I didn’t put it in all the baskets.” When I nodded, relishing in my correct guess, he took what looked like a travel-sized hatchet out of his pocket and whacked at the root. “Here you go,” he said, handing me the plant straight from the ground.
Can’t get much fresher than that.
Kale, spicy lettuce, romaine lettuce, snap peas, strawberries, zucchini and radishes made up my first box. How would I incorporate each into a meal? Was there a website in which I could enter the ingredients I had on hand and find recipes that fit the bill?
Luckily, there is just such a website, searchable by ingredients. I found a vegetable stir-fry over pasta that welcomed nearly all of mine.
But as I put the gigantic box of fresh goods on my kitchen counter, anxiety set in. A newcomer to both farm-fresh produce and cooking, I couldn’t remember which green was which. What were those onion-like vegetables under the gigantic bag of radishes. The things were round and white on the bottom, with tall greens stemming upward. Onions? Or some kind of shallot?
I didn’t know what a shallot was, but I’d heard of it and didn’t want to rule anything out prematurely. How I wished Google had a reverse search application so you could take a picture and search it, without typing in a name. Maybe they were white onions?
However, Googling onion with long stem and round white vegetable with green stalk didn’t identify my mystery vegetable. But after the first chop into it, my eyes welled up with tears and I knew it was definitely an onion of some kind. How different could the kinds be? Surely this one would do well in my stir-fry.
Adding a red and yellow pepper to my fresh kale, peas, zucchini, onions and radishes, I started chopping. Until I got to the peas. In the pods.
Were these snow peas that you eat in the pod or snap peas? I had to make what I call an executive guess. Judging by the toughness of the pod, I decided these would be the kind of peas I needed to extract. After prying open my first pod and sliding my finger down the center to detach all the peas, I felt a sense of accomplishment.
I threw all the ingredients in a sauté pan, along with some garlic, basil from a plant on my windowsill and a splash of extra virgin olive oil. In another pot, the pasta was boiling and next to my glass of wine were fresh strawberries. In minutes, all of the vegetables were tender and the pasta was al dente. I combined the two in a large mixing bowl, seasoned with salt and pepper and voila! My first home cooked, farm-fresh meal.
One taste confirmed my hope: vegetables straight from the farm are worlds apart from their grocery counterparts. I have more vegetables from my half-share, more than my refrigerator would like to accommodate. I am on my way to learning to cook while enjoying a healthier, tastier diet.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Bay Weekly's Eat Your Veggies
Eat Your Veggies
From farmer to table, each week of the growing season brings a different box of just-ripened vegetables, fruits and herbs
by Amy Russell
I have embarked on a great food experiment: I am teaching myself to cook. Until now, my culinary regime has been limited to three-ingredient crock-pot meals. With the help of gift cookbooks and guidance from family and friends, I think cooking is a goal I can reach.
But I’ve much to learn.
Last summer I went to my first farmers’ market, where I stumbled across heaps of strange-sounding vegetables: Arugula. Leeks. Overwhelmed, I paid for my common bell peppers and onions and headed home.
I know nothing about vegetables beyond the traditional broccoli and carrots. Knowing that I will have to branch out of those comforts if I really want to learn to cook, I thought back to that farmers’ market and decided that the next stop along my culinary journey would be to join Community Supported Agriculture.
Community Supported Agriculture is a partnership between a farmer and shareholders. Members front seed money at the beginning of the season, giving the farmer operating capital. In turn, membership brings a stake in the farm and a share of its produce. Each week of the growing season, members receive a box of whatever vegetables, fruits and herbs have just ripened.
From my boxes, I will not only learn to cook. I will also learn what to do with heretofore unknown ingredients.
I know the food will be local; it’s grown in my neighborhood. And I know it will be fresh.
The rest is unknown.
Shawn and Me
Once I made the decision to become a CSA member, I researched online and found the Sizer Farmstead, an acre-and-a-half farm in Davidsonville, not far from my home. Farmer Shawn Sizer and I are the perfect pair: We are both newbies to the Community Supported Agriculture community. A horticulturalist at heart, Sizer decided to start his farm — while keeping an office job — as a way to build family bonds.
Shawn Sizer, a first-year Community Supported Agriculture farmer, tends the chickens at his farm in Davidsonville.
“I wanted to reconnect with my three daughters, and I wanted them to understand about Mother Nature, ecology, ecosystems and how one thing in life is connected to everything else,” Sizer said. He rented a farmhouse with a big yard where he put in his first vegetable garden last year. It was successful beyond his wildest expectations.
“Last year, we cultivated about a third of an acre, and I couldn’t give it away fast enough,” Sizer said. “I have 21 employees at my other job, and I was filling my truck up each week to feed them. We were eating sweet corn on Halloween. We had about 150 plants of summer squash, and we gave it away or sold it by the crates. We still have some winter squash, potatoes and pumpkins from last year in our basement.”
With such abundance, Sizer wanted to share the wealth through community-supported agriculture. After a winter of research, he went seeking partners.
“There is nothing like pulling a carrot out of the ground that you have nurtured from inception, washing it off with the cold water from the garden hose and taking that first bite,” Sizer told me.
“The taste and personal accomplishment is so gratifying,” he said. “Who wouldn’t want to eat that kind of food every day?”
I sure do. I can’t wait!
So I signed up, along with 29 others, and now we’re counting on Sizer’s skill and luck — and Mother Nature’s good graces — because we know that we’re sharing his risks of a poor season along with his hope for the bounty of a plentiful one.
From Tiny Seeds, Big Things Sprout
Community Supported Agriculture began about 60 years ago in Japan when people grew concerned about the safety and the quality of imported food. The idea hopped to Europe and, in the late 1980s, America joined the wave. Today more than 1,000 farms operate as CSA farms in America. Another 12,000 are linked to a CSA in some way or another, according to the National Agriculture Library.
The movement has caught on because, Sizer said, “it rekindles a basic human instinct that most Americans have forgotten about — knowing your food and where it comes from.” At the personal level, he says “people like the fact that they get to meet the person who grows the food they eat and even get to help produce their own food. They can come out and see the pile of ground-up leaves, watch the chickens dig through it and eat the earthworms, see the chickens lay their eggs.”
“Come out when you like, take a look around,” Sizer invited. “It’s not the prettiest place yet, but wait till the gardens start growing and you see what you get.”
I accepted Sizer’s open-door invitation. I’ve met the farmer — and his chickens. Now I’m looking forward to meeting other members of my CSA. I’m hoping the weekly pick-ups create bonds that weave a community. I have big expectations, because Sizer has inspired me to believe that “People want to be a part of something that is good for themselves, the community and the environment.”
A little more practically, I hope to exchange (probably mostly collect) recipes. I also expect to learn what vegetables and herbs grow and taste the best during which seasons. I read something about summer squash on the list of veggies, and I wonder, have I been eating winter squash since November? Or is that summer squash, just out of season and not as yummy?
And will I enjoy pineapple-flavored tomatoes? That’s one of the oddities Sizer discovered after a member wondered if he would grow pineapples. Obviously farmer Sizer and I aren’t the only ones new to this.
Ready, Set, Cook
This spring, as we dive into this head first and for different reasons, each of us will be taking risks, different as they may be. While Sizer puts his neck on the line each week, my risk — beyond my initial investment of $380 for a half share — will be mostly culinary: Will I like these new vegetables? Will I learn to cook well? Will my experiment be a success?
Since joining, I’ve checked the Farmers’ Almanac and other weather predictors in hopes of a successful season. I’ve cleared room in the refrigerator, mailed away for several cooking magazines and email subscriptions, attended three Pampered Chef parties and spent many a Friday night roaming the isles of Bed, Bath and Beyond to ensure that I’m fully prepared and readily equipped for the venture.
As the farm-to-table movement brings more attention to the health value of eating locally grown food, it’s no wonder Community Supported Agriculture is growing in popularity. UMASSVegetable.org estimates that food bought in grocery stores travels an average of 1,300 miles from the farm where it was grown. Every state in the U.S. — even Florida and California, our prime growing states — imports 85 percent of its food from another state or country. In comparison, produce from a CSA is as fresh as if you’d picked it out of your neighbor’s backyard.
For 23 weeks starting May 25, I will pick up my box of in-season, farm-fresh fruits, vegetables, herbs, eggs and even honey. Each week in my kitchen, I’ll be forced by my treasures to step outside my comfort zone. Each week, I will investigate the contents and seek out recipes that incorporate all the ingredients — those familiar and not. For 23 weeks I will be eating well, and with a little luck, learning life lessons well beyond cooking. I’m banking on it.
I’ll check back with you this fall and let you know how I did. Wish me luck.
From farmer to table, each week of the growing season brings a different box of just-ripened vegetables, fruits and herbs
by Amy Russell
I have embarked on a great food experiment: I am teaching myself to cook. Until now, my culinary regime has been limited to three-ingredient crock-pot meals. With the help of gift cookbooks and guidance from family and friends, I think cooking is a goal I can reach.
But I’ve much to learn.
Last summer I went to my first farmers’ market, where I stumbled across heaps of strange-sounding vegetables: Arugula. Leeks. Overwhelmed, I paid for my common bell peppers and onions and headed home.
I know nothing about vegetables beyond the traditional broccoli and carrots. Knowing that I will have to branch out of those comforts if I really want to learn to cook, I thought back to that farmers’ market and decided that the next stop along my culinary journey would be to join Community Supported Agriculture.
Community Supported Agriculture is a partnership between a farmer and shareholders. Members front seed money at the beginning of the season, giving the farmer operating capital. In turn, membership brings a stake in the farm and a share of its produce. Each week of the growing season, members receive a box of whatever vegetables, fruits and herbs have just ripened.
From my boxes, I will not only learn to cook. I will also learn what to do with heretofore unknown ingredients.
I know the food will be local; it’s grown in my neighborhood. And I know it will be fresh.
The rest is unknown.
Shawn and Me
Once I made the decision to become a CSA member, I researched online and found the Sizer Farmstead, an acre-and-a-half farm in Davidsonville, not far from my home. Farmer Shawn Sizer and I are the perfect pair: We are both newbies to the Community Supported Agriculture community. A horticulturalist at heart, Sizer decided to start his farm — while keeping an office job — as a way to build family bonds.
Shawn Sizer, a first-year Community Supported Agriculture farmer, tends the chickens at his farm in Davidsonville.
“I wanted to reconnect with my three daughters, and I wanted them to understand about Mother Nature, ecology, ecosystems and how one thing in life is connected to everything else,” Sizer said. He rented a farmhouse with a big yard where he put in his first vegetable garden last year. It was successful beyond his wildest expectations.
“Last year, we cultivated about a third of an acre, and I couldn’t give it away fast enough,” Sizer said. “I have 21 employees at my other job, and I was filling my truck up each week to feed them. We were eating sweet corn on Halloween. We had about 150 plants of summer squash, and we gave it away or sold it by the crates. We still have some winter squash, potatoes and pumpkins from last year in our basement.”
With such abundance, Sizer wanted to share the wealth through community-supported agriculture. After a winter of research, he went seeking partners.
“There is nothing like pulling a carrot out of the ground that you have nurtured from inception, washing it off with the cold water from the garden hose and taking that first bite,” Sizer told me.
“The taste and personal accomplishment is so gratifying,” he said. “Who wouldn’t want to eat that kind of food every day?”
I sure do. I can’t wait!
So I signed up, along with 29 others, and now we’re counting on Sizer’s skill and luck — and Mother Nature’s good graces — because we know that we’re sharing his risks of a poor season along with his hope for the bounty of a plentiful one.
From Tiny Seeds, Big Things Sprout
Community Supported Agriculture began about 60 years ago in Japan when people grew concerned about the safety and the quality of imported food. The idea hopped to Europe and, in the late 1980s, America joined the wave. Today more than 1,000 farms operate as CSA farms in America. Another 12,000 are linked to a CSA in some way or another, according to the National Agriculture Library.
The movement has caught on because, Sizer said, “it rekindles a basic human instinct that most Americans have forgotten about — knowing your food and where it comes from.” At the personal level, he says “people like the fact that they get to meet the person who grows the food they eat and even get to help produce their own food. They can come out and see the pile of ground-up leaves, watch the chickens dig through it and eat the earthworms, see the chickens lay their eggs.”
“Come out when you like, take a look around,” Sizer invited. “It’s not the prettiest place yet, but wait till the gardens start growing and you see what you get.”
I accepted Sizer’s open-door invitation. I’ve met the farmer — and his chickens. Now I’m looking forward to meeting other members of my CSA. I’m hoping the weekly pick-ups create bonds that weave a community. I have big expectations, because Sizer has inspired me to believe that “People want to be a part of something that is good for themselves, the community and the environment.”
A little more practically, I hope to exchange (probably mostly collect) recipes. I also expect to learn what vegetables and herbs grow and taste the best during which seasons. I read something about summer squash on the list of veggies, and I wonder, have I been eating winter squash since November? Or is that summer squash, just out of season and not as yummy?
And will I enjoy pineapple-flavored tomatoes? That’s one of the oddities Sizer discovered after a member wondered if he would grow pineapples. Obviously farmer Sizer and I aren’t the only ones new to this.
Ready, Set, Cook
This spring, as we dive into this head first and for different reasons, each of us will be taking risks, different as they may be. While Sizer puts his neck on the line each week, my risk — beyond my initial investment of $380 for a half share — will be mostly culinary: Will I like these new vegetables? Will I learn to cook well? Will my experiment be a success?
Since joining, I’ve checked the Farmers’ Almanac and other weather predictors in hopes of a successful season. I’ve cleared room in the refrigerator, mailed away for several cooking magazines and email subscriptions, attended three Pampered Chef parties and spent many a Friday night roaming the isles of Bed, Bath and Beyond to ensure that I’m fully prepared and readily equipped for the venture.
As the farm-to-table movement brings more attention to the health value of eating locally grown food, it’s no wonder Community Supported Agriculture is growing in popularity. UMASSVegetable.org estimates that food bought in grocery stores travels an average of 1,300 miles from the farm where it was grown. Every state in the U.S. — even Florida and California, our prime growing states — imports 85 percent of its food from another state or country. In comparison, produce from a CSA is as fresh as if you’d picked it out of your neighbor’s backyard.
For 23 weeks starting May 25, I will pick up my box of in-season, farm-fresh fruits, vegetables, herbs, eggs and even honey. Each week in my kitchen, I’ll be forced by my treasures to step outside my comfort zone. Each week, I will investigate the contents and seek out recipes that incorporate all the ingredients — those familiar and not. For 23 weeks I will be eating well, and with a little luck, learning life lessons well beyond cooking. I’m banking on it.
I’ll check back with you this fall and let you know how I did. Wish me luck.
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