Hi -

I’m hosting an event (sit down dinner) for an environmental nonprofit, and would love to find a very good, full service caterer that is either part of the slow food movement or at least uses some local ingredients and follows some sustainable practices. 

 Any suggestions? 

     

In one of his journal entries, American naturalist and philosopher Henry David Thoreau wondered if a child might pick “its first flower with an insight into its beauty and significance which the subsequent botanist never retains”. This quote came back to me as I watched a group of kids crowd around to see ten very scrawny one-year-old apple trees. With smiling faces, pushes to get a better look, waving hands to alert me of a pressing question and shouts of oohs and ahs, they apparently were not at all deterred by the tree’s dwarf size, poky bare branches and overwhelming industrial deer fences. So began the all day apple tree planting ceremony at Lakewood Elementary School in Durham on December 18th. It was a gray and cold day with a fine mist coming down that eventually turned into a steady drizzle. But despite the weather, teachers and kids alike all seemed eager to come outside, take a look at the trees and learn a little bit about them.

“Our playground sure does look a lot different”, one boy commented, watching as holes began to be dug into the grass that bordered the basketball and impromptu soccer area. I asked if any of them knew what was going on at their school that day and hands shot up. One girl in an over sized rain jacket shouted with a toothless grin, “We’re planting apple trees!”

In May of 2007, Slow Food Triangle along with The Center for Environmental Farming Systems and SEEDs, hosted a Farm to Fork Picnic at Chapel Hill Creamery honoring Slow Food International Founder Carlo Petrini’s visit to the triangle. The plan for the money raised from the event was to plant heirloom apple trees at a local school and was inspired by Lee Calhoun and his book Old Southern Apples. The idea was simple; to involve the kids with the planting while exposing them to the idea that apples do not originate in grocery stores. The drought delayed the project for eighteen months, but finally, last month, ten trees were bought from David Vernon’s Century Farm Orchard in Reidsville NC, which has been owned by his family for over a hundred years. His orchard specializes in the preservation of apples that were once widely grown in the southern US from the 1600s to the early 1900s. He grows over four hundred varieties of old southern apple trees, all of which continue to be good producers in the warm, humid climate of the south and bear fruit with distinctive qualities. After advice from both Lee and David, five different types of trees were purchased, – Yates, Kinnaird’s Choice, Virginia Beauty, Goldrush and King David. Elizabeth Newman and David Werlinger, two volunteers that manage and run a beautiful garden at the school, garnered the support of the teachers and principal, while helping to organize the planting ceremony.

The kids yelled guesses for how long it would take the trees to begin bearing fruit. I heard one month, one year, one hundred years, and many durations in between. Each grade expressed different interests and imparted their own unique knowledge about the trees. Kindergartners were concerned that lions would eat the trees, a group of fourth graders connected their study of pollination in science to how the trees produced fruit, while a fifth grader said even though they wouldn’t be at the school when the apples started to appear (it would take five years for the trees to begin producing), they hoped to visit so they could see how they would turn out. The fifth graders also took part in the planting itself, mixing dirt with limestone, digging holes, loosening the roots of the trees and measuring and recording their initial height.

At the end of their time outside, all the children got a High Country heirloom apple from Raven Rocks, distributed by Eastern Carolina Organics that were donated by Lantern. As they walked in line back to their classrooms, there was a definite celebratory feel to the day that overrode the gray sky. There was no need to explain to the kids why it was particularly neat or exciting that we were planting trees at their school – they just understood and had immediate faith in the project. As Thoreau also noted, “I have great faith in a seed. Convince me that you have a seed there, and I am prepared to expect wonders”.

 
A big thanks to all of the generous help!

Landscaping and planting was donated by Michele of DeRose Garden and Landscape Company, a residential landscape design/build company specializing in the use of native plants, drought-tolerant plantings, gardening for wildlife, container gardens and stonework.

SEEDS, a non-profit community garden whose goal is to teach people to care for the earth, themselves and each other through a variety of garden-based programs.

Rachel Elliott, for the beautiful photographs taken.

These classes are available through Academy Nights at Durham Academy.  It’s an evening enrichment program where ALL of the funds raised are donated to the school’s need-based financial aid program.

Visit www.da.org/academynights for registration information and other great classes.

WHAT’S IN YOUR GROCERY CART? POTENTIAL RISKS OF GMO (GENETICALLY MODIFIED) FOOD
Tuesday, January 27 • 7:00 - 9:00 pm • $25 • Upper School

This class will address two questions: Are genetically engineered foods safe to eat? Do they harm the earth’s environment? Participants will look at how crop genetic engineering works, review regulations of genetically modified crops, examine evidence for environmental and human health effects and then explore differences in global perceptions and policy. With that background, we will address your questions and discuss whether you think GMO foods  should be labeled.  DR. MARY EUBANKS holds appointments as Adjunct Professor in Biology and the Program in Education at Duke University and is a Senior Research Fellow in Integrative Biology at the University of Texas-Austin. She has been awarded 17 patents for her research discoveries in corn genetics.

510    FOUR SQUARE:  A FARM TO TABLE DINNER
Sunday, February 1 • 10:00 am - 1:00 pm • $35 • Materials: $30
Class held at Four Square Restaurant, 2701 Chapel Hill Road, Durham

Do you think that your only option in winter is frozen peas and tired potatoes?  Think again!  In this class you will see how the talented chef of Four Square utilizes the bounty from local hard-working farmers. See how you can use fresh vegetables and local meats to make a wonderful meal for your family even in the dark days of winter.  Shane will take the choicest of meat and poultry from local producers, combine with winter veggies, and make you a meal that will please your palate.  See how farm to table dinner supports the impressive number of farmers that have helped give the Durham & Chapel Hill area Bon Appetit magazine’s distinction of “Foodiest Small town” in America. Bring a Chef’s knife and a paring knife if you have them.  SHANE INGRAM, owner and chef of Four Square restaurant, is a graduate of the Academy of Culinary Arts.  He has worked with Charlie Trotter in Chicago, with Chef Emeril Lagasse, the Inn at Little Washington, and the Fearrington House.  Four Square has received many accolades, including the Mobil Three Star Award and AAA Four-Diamond Award.  Shane has twice been the Guest Chef at the James Beard House in New York City.

CULINARY TRICKS FOR HEART HEALTH
Monday, February 23 • 7:00 - 9:00 pm • $25 • Materials: $10
Class held at the Rice House, 1644 Cole Mill Road, Durham

Educate your palate and mind as you learn to understand the benefits of organic local foods and learn a few culinary tricks of the health trade. Then relax and enjoy the fruits of your newly educated efforts.  Join Dr. Bob Rosati, and his wife Kitty, in their presentation of a heart-healthy meal beginning with an olive oil and vinegar tasting.  You will learn to  master the nuances of the oil and vinegar flavors and how to pair the oils and vinegars with a meal of pasta, fish, salad and caramelized squash you will enjoy. You’ll leave all the more confident on how to make the right choices for your favorite dishes. DR. ROBERT ROSATI AND KITTY GURKIN ROSATI are authors of the NY Times bestseller, The Rice Diet Solution.  Dr. Rosati is program director of the Rice Diet Program and a cardiologist.  Mrs. Rosati is the nutrition director of the Rice Diet Program, a registered dietician and the author of three books on preventing and reversing heart disease and obesity.

ROOTED IN WINTER – INSIDE WATT’S GROCERY
Thursday, January 29 • 6:00 - 8:00 pm •  $30 • Materials: No fee
Class held at Watt’s Grocery, 1116 Broad Street, Durham

After her travels and training in France, Amy Tournquist always returns to her roots in Old Durham.  She skillfully translates the traditional techniques she learned abroad using fresh produce from local farmers’ markets to give Southern classics an upscale and often whimsical twist.  She and her staff invite you behind the scenes at Watt’s Grocery where you can observe how they weave seasonal ingredients into a mouth-watering four-course meal.  Then join them at the table for a meal that speaks of our region and its roots.  AMY TOURNQUIST is a Durham native with more than 20 years of culinary experience both locally and abroad.  She has built her reputation using seasonal and local ingredients to create dishes that give a fresh spin to North Carolina favorites.  She is the President of the Board of Directors at SEEDS and has been featured in national publications such as Food and Wine, Country Home and others.

Posted by Natalie Hampton
Terra Madre was everything that others have described … the UN of Food, the Olympics opening ceremony, and for me, a reminder of what a small world it really is. About two weeks before I left for the Turin, I saw the documentary, “Black Gold,” about a fair trade coffee co-op in Ethiopia. The central character, Tadesse Meskela, moves between his growers and the developed world, trying to get the best possible price for the growers’ coffee. The first day we had lunch at Terra Madre, I was in line behind a group of Ethiopian delegates. I was wondering if they were coffee growers, if they were from the co-op in “Black Gold,” if Meskela was with them. And there he was! I spoke with him, got his photo, and several days later we talked again. His colleagues were so delighted to learn I worked for a US university — N.C. State — and they all wanted my business card. Since them, I’ve received an email from one of them, seeking a graduate program in communications. “It’s a small world after all…”

by Whitney Brown, UNC-Chapel Hill graduate student in Folklore

I have never seen such a spectacle in all my life. It was like the UN meets the Olympic opening ceremonies meets a populist farmer rally, and it was beautiful. I found myself alternately laughing with delight, scrambling for photos, wiping away tears evoked by moving speeches, and excitedly scribbling notes about Slow Food International’s politically-charged, inspirational rhetoric.

By the time of the opening ceremony, I had already met so many extraordinary people that I was beginning to wonder what I was doing there, graduate student that I am. I don’t farm or work with impoverished youth or run farmers’ markets. At this stage, I mostly trade in ideas, and I’m no great thinker, though God knows I try. But I was there to observe and network and learn, and I did all of those every day until I simply couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. It was an overwhelming trip in terms of people, tastes, and ideas, and I think I will be processing it well into next year.

Selected by Slow Food USA to join the ranks of the 700+ youth delegates from around the world, I got to know my fellow youth delegates best of all. I apply the term “youth” to myself only loosely now at age 25, but there were folks there as “youth” who were in their 30s as well. Whoever we are, the “youth” were all housed together out in a little mountain town called Bardonecchia, which is almost in France, and was home to Olympic snowboarding in 2006. In fact, we stayed in the former Olympic village, generally four to a room with folks from our own respective countries. Our commute to and from Torino was about an hour and fifteen minutes or hour and a half each way, depending on traffic, so we had a lot of time to get to know each other on the buses. It sounds strange to say, but in four days of bus rides, hurried breakfasts, and dinners with table wine from a seemingly endless tap, I know I made some lifelong friends and colleagues.

Because nearly all the delegates relied on scheduled buses and our accommodations were literally spread out in towns across northern Italy, I didn’t have time to get to know many people who weren’t in the youth delegation. I was on the hunt for Winona LaDuke, Poppy Tooker, and a farmer/extension agent named David Kendall from Madison County, NC, but I never found any of them. In a crowd of over 7100 people, it was almost impossible to find specific people, but that made the random sightings of familiar faces even more exciting and rewarding. Difficult as I found it to link up with certain folks, this was undoubtedly one of those times that it helps to be a 5’11” woman with big, curly hair; you are easily spotted by your friends. (Surprisingly, my stature did not give me leverage over 5’6” Italian men as we jostled for free samples in Salone del Gusto. I quickly learned that the Southerner in me is not aggressive enough in crowds.) Since I’m so easily spotted, I did manage to run into fellow NC delegates April McGreger and Phoebe Lawless several times, and I also had the chance to meet Alex and Betsy Hitt from Peregrine Farm through Phoebe. I also talked with some NC cheesemakers at the US Raw Milk Cheese Presidia booth, which was fun and tasty, and meeting these folks leads me to my next point:

In general, since my Italian skills are almost nonexistent, it was a relief to find places to speak English and hear English spoken to me without having to wear headphones. It was the only way to get that farmers’ market vibe that I crave. There were literally hundreds of booths where I simply couldn’t talk to people, though many anticipated this and had brochures in English. There were also a few notable exceptions when particularly exuberant Italians were determined to communicate directly with me despite our lack of a shared spoken language, including a cheesemaker who, with kisses on my cheeks, wanted me to know that he had two vintage Willy’s Jeeps that he drove around his Italian farm and that that they came from Toledo, Ohio. I think. (I honestly believe we had only five words in common: America, Willy’s, Jeep, Toledo, Ohio.) That incident was amusing and endearing, but I was otherwise shocked at the amount of frustration I felt at my inability to communicate with people about the fascinating foods they were feeding me; I just take it for granted that I can do that around here. As a veteran traveler, I didn’t expect to find the language barrier so bothersome, but I guess my curiosity about new foods really heightened my communication needs. Luckily, in addition to my new raw milk cheesemaker friends, I found similar English-speaking respite with the Ojibwe manoomin (wild rice) crew from Minnesota in the Presidia and at the Salone booth of the American Association of Brewers, where I tasted some unfamiliar American beers and met Dogfish Head brewmaster Sam Calagione.

Before I left for Italy, I’d been seriously contemplating the class and race issues embedded in food–and Slow Food–so I was pleased to see them tackled head-on in Italy by both the US delegation and the international leaders. As much as I love to grow things and cook and eat, I am most interested in the socio-economic and cultural politics of food. Under the expert direction of Dr. Rayna Green, I am taking a class right now at UNC called “The Life, Death, and Rebirth of Native Foodways,” so Native American issues in particular have been on my mind lately. (I’m especially interested in Native foods recognized by the Ark of Taste and Presidia and also the many others in the Ark of Taste that are described as having Native origins/ties. Who’s growing this stuff, and why? What, if anything, does this mean for Native peoples?) Over the years, I’ve done a lot of work on African-American history and culture, including a stint as the one [relatively] radical white girl in a history class at the University of Alabama on the Black Power movement. I myself am descended from people who were tenant farmers in the foothills of South Carolina only two generations ago, relying completely on the land and the seasons for sustenance. My grandmother remembers always having plenty of good food to eat, but the family never got ahead until they got off the farm and into wage labor in the textile mills and the military. All of these things have helped to shape my interest in food and farmers and land and marginalization, which are on my mind more and more these days.

So, yes, I was pleased that the rhetoric and the literature at Terra Madre were outwardly political, relying heavily on concepts of “rights” to good, clean, fair food, as well as handing out “manifestos” on the future of seeds and food policy. I definitely felt momentum building for social justice at home and abroad. Many leaders referred hopefully to the upcoming US presidential election and the role our next president must play in crafting better US agricultural and food policy and in addressing the world food crisis. I admit I went to Terra Madre feeling a bit embarrassed to be an American, and I hate that. Actually, each of the three times I have gone abroad in the last eight years I have felt the same way: embarrassed at our wealth and our waste and our war… And our president. In truth, I don’t know anyone who loves this place more than I do, problems and all, but I guess that’s why I’m so disappointed in us at the moment. It was clear from day one at Terra Madre that America–and America’s food policy–has a disproportionate amount of influence on the rest of the world, and our influence has been an increasingly negative one in recent years. Still, Carlo Petrini’s even-handed speech made me feel hopeful and proud. It was refreshing to me to hear that although people around the world are angry at America (and rightfully so), they still believe in our potential for greatness and our ability to impact positive change across the globe. And speaking of change, it was quite clear who the world wants us to elect. I can’t tell you the number of folks who wanted to talk to me about Obama, which made me even prouder to live in a state that might just swing his way.

Anyhow, as these big ideas began to sink in, it struck me how lucky the Slow Food movement is to be guided by such great thinkers and powerful speakers. Call me a neophyte, but Vandana Shiva, whom I had somehow never heard of before Terra Madre, absolutely floored me during her opening ceremony speech on GMOs and big agriculture, during which she explicitly railed against American agribusiness giants like Monsanto. In the US regional meeting, Winona LaDuke gave us a powerful glimpse of the Native American perspective on Slow Food and GMOs and sacredness of certain crops. “We are not fighting to eat at Whole Foods,” she said, as she explained that we must care for our crops as if they are our family members, and they will care for us in return. Stressing the importance of cultural diversity alongside biodiversity, as did many others, she declared, “This movement cannot be a monocrop.” Though rushed for time due to earlier speakers running over their allotments, Will Allen and his daughter Erika Allen nevertheless gave a moving talk that echoed LaDuke’s sentiments about the need to diversify the movement, and they called for us to reach out to folks like the poor, urban African-Americans with whom they work. They explained yet another perspective on food and agriculture that I think is important for us to understand, which is that agriculture is a politically loaded endeavor that is often viewed unfavorably by the descendants of slaves and sharecroppers who fled Southern plantations for Northern cities in the twentieth century. Agriculture is often seen by those folks as a regression, and others are wary of Slow Food as an elitist white thing, to be frank. It’s just something most of us–and by “us” I generally mean middle to upper class white people–driving the movement here in the States don’t think about. For a lot of us, it just hasn’t been part our world.

In the end, what I took away were series of important questions: what are our goals? Whom are we serving? What can we do to be more effective? The most current rhetoric calls for inclusiveness regardless of race or income and declares the “right” to good, clean, and fair food at a price that works for both producers and consumers. The biggest question for me is, what can I do to help? There certainly were many inspiring models around me; I’ve just got to figure out how to apply some of what I learned there now that I’m back here.

I don’t know what it was like for the producer delegates, but the youth all agreed that we could feel the hope and enthusiasm pulsing through our segment of the delegation. Indeed, I came home inspired to do more and to do better in every part of my life, whether in my academic work, my political activism, my gardening, or my cooking, but also to find ways to make my work affect people’s lives for the better. The ongoing discussion of the importance of preserving cultural diversity and ensuring its representation in the movement made a lot of sense to me as a folklorist. Carlo Petrini’s call to document and continue the traditions of our ancestors validated in one speech everything I’ve done since I started graduate school, as well as my lifelong impulse to honor and preserve the traditional. In a more immediate, pressing sense, our attention was drawn to starvation and waste and the world food crisis, and in their speeches, US and international leaders emphasized the importance of the youth delegation and the work we will do in the coming decades, as well as the need for the older members of the movement to open their homes and lives to us in order to establish mentoring relationships.

Let us hope that all of the delegates will take these ideas back home and transform them into something more than just talk. My experience at Terra Madre convinced me that we are already off to a good start.

A couple of Sundays ago we met up for a Slow Food Triangle Potluck. Little did we know a storm was on its way to Alamance county at the exact moment all ~100 of us convened. As soon as we placed the last dishes on the outdoor tables situated on Alex and Betsy’s beautiful Peregrine Farm, storm clouds gathered and the the sky turned a malicious dark gray.
As the first drops began to fall, Betsy made a generous announcement that we would retreat to their house to enjoy the dishes members had prepared. Here are a couple of snaps from the event by Kirk Ross of the Carrboro Citizen and Lud fame as well as the recipes we have thus far. Send yours in to info@slowfoodtriangle.org or send as a comment here!

The Recipes:

BEST Easy Chopped Pork (Eastern NC-style BBQ)
submitted by Ben and Noah of Fickle Creek Farm

1 Pork roast ~ 3 lb ham roast or Boston butt
4 Tbsp olive oil
4 Tbsp honey
2 Tbsp ground cayenne or serrano pepper
Salt, Pepper, Honey and Vinegar to taste

- Spread 2 Tbsp each oil, honey, cayenne/serrano pepper on the bottom of a covered oven dish.
- Place pork roast in dish (if there is one side with a layer of fat, place it with that side up).
- Spread 2 Tbsp oil, honey, cayenne/serrano pepper over the top of the pork roast.
- Cook in oven at 325F until pork starts to falls apart, ~30 min/lb.
- Shred/chop pork.
- Season with salt, black pepper, honey and vinegar to taste.
- Return to turned off oven for another 30 min.

comments: This can be done on a grill for a smoky flavor or in a crock pot on low. Sugar or brown sugar can be used in place of honey.

dish sources: Pork - ham, shoulder or picnic roast - Fickle Creek Farm, Efland NC
Serrano pepper - Fickle Creek Farm, Efland NC
Honey - Fickle Creek Farm, Efland NC

Roasted beets with walnut and Gorgonzola dressing
submitted by Bernadette Pelissier

Roast 1 1/2 to 2 pounds of beets in 425 degree oven using 1 tablespoon olive oil and some salt and peppper. When cooled, peel and slice beets and place in bowl with 1 tablespoon olive oil, salt and pepper to taste.

For dressing, put 2 tablespoons olive oil in hot pan. Add1/4 cup chopped walnuts and cook until browned. Transfer to small bowl and when walnuts have cooled, add 1/3 cup thinly sliced red onion, 2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil leaves, 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar, 2 ounces Gorgonzola cheese and 1/2 light or heavy cream.

dish sources: Beets from farmer’s market. Cream from Maple View, basil from garden. Other ingredients are not local.

Grilled Broccoli w/spring pesto
submitted by Mark Overbay

Large bowl of trimmed broccoli.
1/4 cup olive oil
3/4 cup pesto made from walnuts, basil, garlic, olive oil, and Parmesan

- Fire charcoal under one side of grill
- Toss broccoli in olive oil, using only what you need to coat all the florets
- Place oiled broccoli on other side of grill (not directly over charcoal). Grill broccoli, turning every minute or so, until florets are bright green and slightly charred.
- Let cool 5 minutes
- Toss with pesto and serve.

dish sources: Maple Springs - Ken and Libby
Bluebird Meadows - Stuart and Alice Helga (Durham Farmers’ Market)
Olive oil, nuts, and cheese from Whole Foods Market

Strawberry Trifle
submitted by Fred and Amanda Stipe

A loosely organized melange of local fresh strawberries, locally-baked pound cake; whipped cream; vanilla custard…and a drizzling of rum

dish sources: Carrboro Farmer’s Market: Various local strawberry producers [the strawberries]; “The Cake Lady” [the pound cake]; Mapleview Farms [the dairy products]

Roasted Beet Salad
submitted by Timothy Flynn

simple: roast beets with olive oil at 350 until sweet and cooked. peel beets and slice
place on top of field greens and toss with french vinagrette.
Lay beets on top of salad and sprinkle with goat cheese.
Add croutons for crunch!

dish sources: local beets from Whole foods&nbsp, Goat cheese from France although there are excellent producers close!!

Whole Wheat Sourdough (Desem) bread
submitted by David Leigh

47 oz Whole Wheat Flour
45 oz Water
19 oz Whole Wheat Desem culture
1.2 oz Salt

Mix flour, water and desem until flour is completely hydrated. After 15 minutes add salt and mix to integrate salt evenly. Dough should be very wet, sticky, and batter-like. After 15 minutes stretch and fold. Repeat stretch and fold every 15 minutes for 1 hour and 30 minutes (6 times in all). At the end of this period, dough should have gained strength and integrity. Bulk ferment for 1 hour 30 minutes. Divide into 4 loaves, pre-shape, rest for 25 minutes, then shape and proof for 1 hour and 30 minutes. Bake at 460 degrees with lots of steam for 45 minutes.

dish sources: Whole Wheat flour from Lindley Mills. Whole Wheat Desem culture from Orange County

Shepherd’s Pie
submitted by Melissa Schumacher

1 1/2 lbs ground round beef
1 onion chopped
1-2 cups vegetables - chopped carrots, corn, peas
1 1/2 - 2 lbs potatoes (3 big ones)
8 tablespoons butter (1 stick)
1/2 cup beef broth
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
Seasonings

1 Peel and quarter potatoes, boil in salted water until tender (about 20 minutes).
2 While the potatoes are cooking, melt 4 Tablespoons butter (1/2 a stick) in large frying pan.
3 Sauté onions in butter until tender over medium heat (10 mins). If you are adding vegetables, add them according to cooking time. Put any carrots in with the onions. Add corn or peas either at the end of the cooking of the onions, or after the meat has initially cooked.
4 Add ground beef and sauté until no longer pink. Add salt and pepper. Add worcesterchire sauce. Add half a cup of beef broth and cook, uncovered, over low heat for 10 minutes, adding more beef broth as necessary to keep moist.
5 Mash potatoes in bowl with remainder of butter, season to taste.
6 Place beef and onions in baking dish. Distribute mashed potatoes on top. Rough up with a fork so that there are peaks that will brown nicely. You can use the fork to make some designs in the potatoes as well.
7 Cook in 400 degree oven until bubbling and brown (about 30 minutes). Broil for last few minutes if necessary to brown.
Serves four.

Magic frosting with strawberries

submitted by Rebecca Vidra

1 quart of strawberries (or more, depending on how many berry-obsessed toddlers you are feeding)
1/2 lb of Quark cheese from Chapel Hill Creamery
1 heaping tablespoon of brown sugar
Directions:
Mix brown sugar and quark together to make whipped spread, much like frosting. You could actually whip it a bit to make it even more “airy”.

Dip strawberries into frosting and enjoy!

This easy dessert is actually a favorite breakfast food in our house during strawberry season.

dish sources: Local organic strawberries (we love Eco Farm’s berries), Chapel Hill Creamery Quark cheese

Strawberry and Rhubarb Cobbler with Cornmeal Biscuits
submitted by Sheri Castle

Strawberry-Rhubarb Filling
1 1/4 pounds rhubarb stalks, cut into 1-inch lengths
1 pint strawberries, halved or quartered if very large
1/2 cup sugar
1 tablespoon cornstarch

Combine the rhubarb and strawberries in a large bowl. Add the sugar and cornstarch and toss the mixture to coat the fruit. Spread the fruit mixture into a shallow 2-quart baking dish. Prepare the Cornmeal Biscuit Crust.

Cornmeal Biscuit Crust
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup cornmeal
3 tablespoons sugar, divided
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
5 tablespoons butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes and refrigerated until very cold
2/3 to 1 cup heavy cream
1 lightly beaten egg
1 tablespoon sugar

Preheat the oven to 375º. Whisk the flour, cornmeal, 2 tablespoons of the sugar, baking powder and salt together in a large bowl. Add the cold butter cubes. Use a pastry blender to cut in the butter until the mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs. Use a fork to blend in 2/3 cup of the cream until the mixture forms soft dough. If the dough seems dry, drizzle in more cream. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface until all the loose dough pieces come together. Pat or roll the dough to a half-inch thickness. Cut the dough into pieces and arrange it over the filling. Lightly brush the biscuits with the beaten egg and then sprinkle the tops with remaining 1 tablespoon of sugar. Bake the cobbler until the top is golden brown and the juices are bubbling, about 45 to 50 minutes. Let the cobbler cool for 15 minutes before serving. Top each serving with a small dollop of whipped cream, if desired.

Makes 6 to 8 servings.

dish sources: Carrboro Farmers Market for strawberries, eggs, and rhubarb (I hope!). I grind my own cornmeal. Local cream.

pate de foie de poulet “c’est si bon!”
submitted by dorette snover

3.25 pounds chicken livers (fickle creek farm)
2 strips of (stanely hughes) bacon, cooked crisp and chopped
5 scallions (anathoth community garden) finely chopped
2 green garlic bulbs (anathoth community garden) finely chopped
10 dried mission figs, coarsely chopped
½ cup mixed fresh herbs (c’est si bon parsley, marjoram, chives, thyme and rosemary)
3 bay leaves
½ tsp. piment d’espelette
1 teaspoon sea salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup cointreau
chopped herbs, for garnish
french bread
sweet onion confit

in a large saute pan or skillet, cook the bacon and remove, till  cool. chop and reserve. melt 4 tablespoons of the butter over medium-high heat. add the scallion and green garlic and cook, stirring, until soft, about 3 minutes. add the chicken livers and figs, 1 tablespoon of the peppercorns, the bay leaves, thyme, salt, and pepper and cook, stirring, until the livers are browned on the outside and still slightly pink on the inside, about 5 minutes. add the cointreau and cook until most of the liquid is evaporated and the livers are cooked through but still tender.
remove from the heat and let cool slightly. discard the bay leaves.
in a food processor, puree the liver mixture. add the remaining butter in pieces and pulse to blend. fold in the remaining 1 tablespoon peppercorns and adjust the seasoning, to taste.
pack the pate into ramekins or small molds, about 4 ounces each. cover with plastic and refrigerate until firm, at least 6 hours.
garnish with herbs and surround with bread or crackers.
serve with sweet onion confit.

sources: fickle creek, stanley hughes’ pine knoll farms, anathoth community garden and c’est si bon!

June is Eat Local Triangle month. These participating restaurants have committed to offering at least one totally local dish on their menus for the entire month. More dishes and restaurant to be announced. Check back here soon!

Of course, all dishes are subject to change. Call ahead if you want to confirm.

ACME - Fava bean, mint and goat cheese ravioli
Bin 54 – Heirloom tomato salad, softshell crabs as available and the menu always includes pureed sweet potatoes
Blu Seafood and Bar - From the Seas NC catch with a garden vegetable Succotash and a fresh local sauce
Bonne Soiree – Braised beef with roasted baby beets and cabbage
Carolina Brewery - Summer Brushetta, local red and yellow tomatoes, local greens from the Farmer’s Market, bread from the Pittsboro Bread Shop and local mozzarella from Cornicopia cheese.
Crook’s Corner – Cauliflower Vinaigrette with fresh herbs and a local cheese plate
Elaine’s - Elaine’s braised rabbit & housemade pappardelle w/ baby carrots, arugula & rabbit consommé
Foster’s Market – Roasted white beet salad
411 West – Local mahi with squash casserole, sautéed green beans, roasted Vidalia onions and basil butter sauce.
518 West - Softshell crabs on greens and a corn and olive Vinaigrette
General Store Cafe - Mediterranean Burger with roasted tomatoes, basil, goat cheese and roasted potatoes
Glasshalfull – Chilled red beet and tomato Gazpacho with a mint and cucumber ice
Globe – Farmer’s Market Gazpacho
Hayes Barton Cafe & Dessertery – Fried green tomatoes with a roasted red pepper and shrimp remoulade
Il Palio Ristorante – House made spaghettini carbonara
The Inn at Celebrity Dairy - Strawberry Shortcake
J. Betski’s - Smoked pork chop with braised kale, new potatoes and sweet onion gravy
Jujube – Grilled NC shrimp and zucchini with purslane and a black vinegar and local honey dressing
Lantern - NC pickle plate with ramps, pumpkin, radishes, napa kimchi, turnips and carrots
Lilly’s Pizza - Homegrown salad with local vegetables and herbs
Lucky 32 –Cornmeal crusted NC catfish with Creole Mayo and creamy grits, as well as daily specials
Magnolia Grill - Mapleview buttermilk soufflé pudding with local berries
Margaret’s Cantina - will include local produce, eggs, locally ground flour and corn and NC farm raised trout. Weekend specials will include all local dishes
Nasher Museum Cafe – Fresh mozzarella whole wheat panini with pesto, roasted shiitake mushrooms and tomatoes
Neal’s Deli - Moroccan carrot salad with parsley
Panciuto - Grilled pork chop with baby carrots, broccoli, spring onions, roasted potatoes and pesto
Piedmont Restaurant - Pork rillette with pickled vegetables
Pazzo! Restaurant – Carrboro Farmer’s Market Chowder
The Raleigh Times Bar – Watermelon Gazpacho with grilled watermelon skewers
Rue Cler - Chevre stuffed squash blossom served on sliced purple Cherokee tomatoes
Squid’s – NC shrimp grilled with roasted zucchini, new potatoes, Vidalia onions, arugula and green tomato vinegarette
Tasca Brava - Pescaitos da Horta (“fish from the garden), fried green beans with a garlic aioli and a sherry vinaigrette and strawberry sorbet.
Toast - NC shrimp, housemade pancetta and, radicchio bruschetta as well as daily specials which will be all local
Vin Rouge – all local specials and an all local cheese plate
Vivace Raleigh - Cauliflower sformato with chilled pea soup
Watt’s Grocery - Yellowtail snapper filets stuffed with crabmeat and topped with summer pea and local tomato vinaigrette. Our pasta, made with local flour and eggs, changes often but will be all local all month. I/2 chatham county free-range chicken served with market squash casserole and sauteed snap beans
The Weathervane – Daily specials will have an all local dish such as: NC grouper on sautéed Asian greens, tomato relish and lemon pepper fettucini
Zely & Ritz - Goat Cheese Wrapped with Swiss Chard and Green & Red Tomatoes

I’ve never seen a coffee bean sold in this area that looks like it comes from anywhere within at least 1,000 miles from here.

by April McGreger, Carrboro, NC  

I got the call.  It finally happened to me.  Someone has deemed me worthy of sharing some of their secrets to finding the “elusive morel.” But not before first asking me take a very serious oath not to tell anyone about the prized spot.  Hunting morels is not as simple as walking into the woods, looking, and picking.  It first requires someone who has an intimate knowledge of the land, different natural habitats, and the weather.  Morels have a very short season, and we’re in the middle of it.  They like rain, but not too much.  Daytime highs in the 60’s or low 70’s and nighttime lows in the 40’s are their favorite temperature range.  However, even when they are plentiful, you may never see them for they are masters of disguise, perfectly camaflouged by forest floor debris.  Numerous stories abound of the frustrated morel hunter who takes a break to rest against a tree and pout about his lack of success only to open his eyes and discover he is sitting in a sea of morels.  

I have had the pleasure of going on numerous mushroom hunts with skilled mycologists but it was always in the fall. This was the first time that I have been led to a sweet spot specifically for spring morels, the most prized of all mushrooms (I’m not counting truffles, here), and have walked away with enough with plans for a meal around them.  And what a meal it was. 

Late Monday night my husband Phil and I got a another call from our friend Grant.  Grant is serious about breakfast.  It seems he had lent a distortion pedal (which clips the normal electic guitar signal to create a distinctive rock sound) to his friend Ash in exchange for a dozen eggs from Ash’s backyard chickens. He also had a fresh batch of Rwandan coffee from 3 Cups and thought the combo had midweek breakfast potential.  He didn’t know just how much potential until I showed up with my bag of morels and whipped them up with soft scrambled eggs. 

The eggs were so ridiculously yellow (the same color as Grant’s bright golden yellow shirt) that they we ended up talking about them almost as much as the creamy, buttery morels.  The vivid yolks result from the high quality, largely foraged diet of weeds and bugs that Ash’s chicken eat and from exposure to plenty of sunlight.  Even the organic “free-range” eggs that you can buy in grocery stores are fed soybean meal and corn and rarely, if ever, see the sun, let alone any grass or bugs.  Lucky for us, this is the time of year that hens are producing their highest volume of eggs so Ash has enough to share.  Spring and rebirth have been associated with egg celebrations for thousands of years.  It’s no coincidince that we dye and hide dozens of eggs for Easter.  

Spring is about more than asparagus and sweet peas.  It’s time to comb the woods, where poplars and ferns and creeks mingle,  for morels.  Its time to eat more pastured eggs, which can be had this time of year at the farmer’s market even if you’re a late riser.  I think I might try to make a trade of my own with Ash for eggs.  He always asked me about my kimchi.  Foraged mushrooms and traded eggs are community-fortified, spiritual food.  This is my favorite taste of spring. 

 by Whitney Brown, UNC graduate student in Folklore & Community Gardener at the future MLK, Jr. Park, Carrboro

Whitney (left) and Leslie install a wire trellis for the sugar snap peas.

I’ve been paying close attention to the weather. We all have. We’ve   been in severe drought for longer than I can remember. Our lakes have been sad deserts, dotted sporadically with little mud puddles. Carrboro remains in Stage 3 water restrictions. It wasn’t long ago I heard Durham had only sixty days of water left, Raleigh not much more. If the local story has been grim, the global story has not been much better: melting polar ice caps, erratic weather patterns, and climate change filled the headlines of major US papers until primary season began to heat up. Each unseasonably warm winter day gives me global warming hypochondria, grateful though I am for temporary breaks in the frigid monotony. And that’s just the weather! Gas prices, suicide bombers, failing peace agreements, nuclear proliferation, the limping US economy, Sudanese genocide, Chinese contamination, domestic hate crimes… It’s been a long winter, and spring cannot get here quickly enough. Luckily, February has already brought the dual relief of rain showers to parched soil and warm Saturdays even to the coldest of weeks. Now, March is here, and the forecasts mercifully promise more rain to fill our gauges, cisterns, and reservoirs. A break in the drought would be one less thing to worry about.

Two of the community gardens youngest weeders, Casey (left) and Logan sample the wild onions.

For the last month, we’ve been preparing the beds. We’ve weeded. And weeded. And weeded. We’ve shaped and mulched. We’ve enriched the soil with composted “sweet stuff,” as Jay says, using our spades to skim it up from the pathways and onto the beds. (“It’s like a rich, moist chocolate cake,” he says.) One of our most experienced gardeners, Jay is a frequent teacher of new gardening skills and practices to newcomers, which we have practically every week. With his kind, careful guidance I am becoming a gardener. After only a few Saturdays, I understand how to make a good bed. Names and faces–of people, vegetables, and weeds alike–become more and more familiar to me each week. I enjoy the work and am confident in my new skills. Today, however, our tasks will be different. March is here, and spring planting begins. Jay told me weeks ago that our first seeds would go in the ground on March 1, and I have been filled with anticipation ever since. We could be planting crabgrass and I’d still be excited. To think that I’ll be eating what we grow is strange and fascinating.

Unfortunately, after a Friday night house party in celebration of the leap year and International Mustache Month, I awake feeling less than excited about the arrival March 1. Uncharacteristically sluggish, I linger around the house that morning with my coffee and my electronic New York Times. Piddling around in my bedroom, I miss a call from Natalie on the world’s least audible cell phone. She left me a voicemail that saying she couldn’t come to the garden that day, so she’d need me to take care of measuring, spreading, and documenting the sea solids, which we use to naturally amend the soil’s mineral content. I am only too happy to oblige, especially since Natalie gave me over two hours of her Sunday night less than a week ago for my project. I believe in reciprocity, particularly since my involvement with the garden is intimately tied to my search for community in Carrboro. I’m pleased to finally involve myself in something meaningful and, in the process, meet people who aren’t just like me: twentysomething graduate students who celebrate things like International Mustache Month.

Knowing that I have to take care of the sea solids, I have a renewed sense of purpose, so I hurry up. Already thirty minutes late, I finally step out my screen door into another shockingly gorgeous and temperate Saturday. My attitude quickly changes for the better. The night before, I’d worn my ski jacket as I walked to the party with Josh! Now, I have on short sleeves and SPF 50. I race up Hillsborough on my bike, hoping that my gloves don’t fly out the back pocket of my jeans and wondering how we’ve been lucky enough to have such beautiful Saturdays for a month straight.

By the time I arrive, people are already putting seeds in the ground with smiles on their faces. The smell of moist dirt catches my nose, coming to me on a light breeze. It’s sunny and quiet except for chatter among gardeners and birds. A pack of cyclists zips by, taking advantage of the beautiful weather. The chalkboard by the gate is filled with information about today’s work. We’ll be putting in spinach, carrots, and peas, and Sammy is today’s Queenbee (leadership position for which someone from the pool of gardeners volunteers on a rotating weekly basis). Jay, always the most cheerful, welcoming, and energetic of us all, greets me warmly even though he’s battling a nasty cold. Though he’s been looking forward to planting for weeks–as long as I’d known him, actually–he was going to have to leave early that day to wrap up a long, drawn out move, all while sick. We lightheartedly commiserate, agreeing that the older you get and the longer you live in a place, the more stuff you accumulate and the longer the move takes. Jay isn’t his usual self, but I feel an extra energy–maybe an air of excitement–among everyone else in the garden on that particular day.

Our reasons for excitement are many. Certainly I can’t speak for everyone, but with my own hands in the dirt, I feel a tremendous sense of historical continuity, as if we’re performing an ancient seasonal ritual. In fact, we are. Spring planting, timed to coincide with the first signs of gradually increasing sunshine and warmth, is a hopeful time. We hope that the frost will not return to kill our seedlings, but more than anything, coming out of winter–seeing the light at the end of the cold, dark tunnel–is such a relief, even here in the mild Southeast. The crunch of frost disappears from underfoot. Birds sing again. Days generously lengthen. Leaves return to the trees and the flowers begin to color our world once more. Energy and optimism return to those of us they left months ago when winter set in. And soon enough, we’ll all be eating the freshest vegetables, herbs, and berries you can get.

I like to plant, but I love to weed. Not everyone does. Checking the charts and chalkboard in the midst of sorting out the sea solid business with Sammy, I take note of which beds need to be dealt with. Many were weeded and mulched in the preceding weeks, but some remain untouched. I hone in on Bed 3, which will be getting sugar snap peas today. It’s a small bed, maybe fifteen feet long, near the front gate. I don’t know what grew there last year since we rotate crops to prevent soil exhaustion and I’ve yet to decipher rotation patterns, but it already has a tall metal framework of stakes dividing the bed down the middle lengthwise. The peas will climb this as they grow. From where I stand at the gate, I can see bed is weedy, but when I actually get started raking off the mulch, I realize that there isn’t much to this bed at all but weeds and a massive amount of mulch. Underneath it all, Bed 3 itself is puny. It’s narrow and shallow. The soil is more like clay than any bed I’ve worked in the last month. My work is cut out for me. This bed needs love, or our peas are in sad shape indeed. Everybody else is busy planting or planning, so I just get to work without interrupting them.

I painstakingly pull out wild onions, digging deep with my gloved fingers to get the roots that like to break off and then regenerate to mockingly greet you the next week. Grabbing a spade, I begin to forage for better soil in the pathways around the bed. I raked so much uncomposted mulch off the bed to begin with that I now have to be careful not to throw any of that back on as I rebuild. I need rich, black, moist dirt to counter all that light brown clay, but the mulch is piled up everywhere, and I get frustrated. Who put all that mulch on there anyway? What were they thinking? Too much of a good thing applies in the garden too, you know. But I quickly check myself for my lapse into negativity, reminding myself that this is a space for people to learn, and at least those people were here to help in the first place, whoever they were. It wasn’t long ago I had no clue what I was doing, and nobody criticized me…

“What can I do?” asks a new guy a few yards behind me. “Oh…,” Sammy replies as he surveys the garden for suggestions, “actually, see what she’s doing over there? That’s a great idea. Grab a spade, and skim off that top layer of black dirt and throw it on this bed…” Indirect as it is, that’s praise from Sammy to me. Since he is one of the most experienced and authoritative of all the gardeners, his words make me feel even better about what I’m doing. I’m proud that I had a good gardening idea on my own. For once, nobody had to tell me to do it. I feel like a real gardener for the first time since I started.

Before long, I see that Bed 3 is heaping with sweet stuff, and I put the spade aside for someone else to pick up. I try to work with a rake to spread the soil, but the metal frame in the middle proves a major hassle. Forsaking the tools, I bend to my knees to rebuild the contours by hand. It’s a slow process, and this is where the bed gets the extra love it badly needs to make it wider, healthier, more coherently shaped. Soon, I being to feel a special attachment to Bed 3, as if it were my special corner of this cooperative community garden where everything is everyone’s. I patiently work my way around the entire bed, sometimes scooping up more black earth from the pathways, and completely focused on the task right in front me. I am determined to do it well and completely, and I know that I will succeed.

Graduate school, on the other hand, feels like one interminably incomplete thought (not to mention application process), a massive unfinished task looming over me at all times. I love what I do and know I am in the right place, but my eyes are getting fuzzy and my hair is turning grey. Some days I am so tired I can barely carry on a conversation. And there’s always more to read. Everything seems to come at the expense of my sleep, and I’m barely keeping my head above water. By contrast, the garden is full of small, manageable tasks that can actually be completed. Raking, hoeing, weeding, digging, planting, watering, and mulching a bed to perfection in the span of a few hours gives me a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment I can’t seem to find anywhere else just now. The ability to act and affect is powerful and reassuring in a world that is so often overwhelming to me these days.

The garden brings me peace in a way few things can. Lying alone on a beach as the waves wash across the sand and the breeze swirls around me. Sitting on the dock with old friends, dangling our toes in the water as the sun sets across the lake, bringing down another thick summer night. Reading in new spring sunshine on the deck at my parents’ house (the only house I knew until I was eighteen). Watching the sunrise from a car somewhere on a state highway, coffee in hand. Situating me firmly in the landscape and reminding me of the sublime rhythms of nature, sunrise, sunset, seasons, and tides have been happening for eons, and they will continue with or without me. These are the moments in my life when the details melt away, and I am acutely aware of the importance of such moments and the perspective they bring. My body relaxes. Something swells in my chest. I breathe slowly and deeply. I become nothing above and beyond my senses. I am in awe of the universe and my place in it. On the best of days, the garden takes me to this place, and I linger there as long as I can. Some come to the garden to grow affordable, organic food for themselves, some to make a political statement, some to teach children and neighbors, some to see friends, and some for the simple love of gardening, but I am here for my sanity. Bed 3 grounds me, and after thirty minutes working alone on my hands and knees, I am done.

“You wanna do the honors?” Sammy asks encouragingly. While I had stepped away from Bed 3 for a few minutes to measure and spread sea solids in other areas of the garden, Sammy had come in behind me to to cut in the sea solids and feathermeal and then form the furrows for the sugar snap peas with his rake. “You did such a great job on this bed, you should do the planting,” he says. Jay, still here even though he said he’d have to leave early, enthusiastically agrees. I notice that I’m as pleased as a kid receiving lavish praise for bringing home straight A’s or coloring inside the lines. It’s an odd feeling–embarrassing almost–and it hadn’t occurred to me until now how little praise we get as adults. I ask Jay a few apprehensive questions about spacing before taking the waxy paper cup full of partially rehydrated peas and placing them gently into the earth. It’s a simple process, but I do it with great care. Even spacing, proper depth, no wasted seeds or space.

And then it was over. The peas were in the ground, and the soil was tamped down over them with front edge of the rake’s teeth to “tuck ‘em in,” as Jay says. Bed 3 was staked and labeled. I feel exhausted and tranquil. Now, there’s nothing to do but wait. 14 days, to be exact. In the meantime, I wonder, did I do it right? Will they sprout properly? How green is my thumb? Are the sea solids at the proper ratio? Most of all, will I feed my fellow gardeners? Just now, I cannot know, but I have reason to hope. We all do.