Food and all of its permutations is just one of the ways (there is also music, writing, art) I connect with my creativity.  Food and I go way back, as it were, to a somewhat tempestuous relationship, one where control and obsession vie for center stage. Despite the turbulence, I have to (want to) eat and I try to enjoy all aspects of it, and as I get older and wiser, this becomes easier.  I want the food I eat to be healthy and delicious, but not stringent in any direction.  I want it to be local, seasonal and organic and this has been the case for so long, I take it for granted.  This year, the 50′ vegetable garden I started sucked me into its earthen vortex and the camera came out with a regularity that had not existed since art school.  It feels good- no great- to be in the dirt, behind the lens, and leafing through beautiful cookbooks and food blogs to find ideas for how to eat from its harvest.

People who love food- now here comes a sweeping generalization- are fun.  They are connected to their senses and the concept of enjoyment.  My grandmother was the first foodie I knew.  More on her later.  Focusing on food, wine, tastes, textures, pairings, plating, colors and scintillations feels at times like an indulgent escape from an often bleak world, but if it is done deliberately with eyes wide open, does that constitute escape?  People who grow food are necessarily connected to the weather, elements and seasons.  They almost automatically eat what is in season when it is fresh and new.  The transitory nature of seasonal food elicits gratitude, a reminder of the fleeting nature of this particular taste and color.  With a certain ersatz informed urgency, we prepare the week’s bounty.  This blog celebrates my gardening efforts and the efforts of other local gardeners and farmers.  It celebrates the fields, water, forest and obviously, dirt.  It celebrates cooking, food writing, inspiration I find from established bloggers and authors, photography and spending time in the kitchen with my man, chris.

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