Most mornings I head out to the garden first thing to pick lettuce. Okay, actually I get my cup of coffee first and pick lettuce second. Lettuce leaves are best harvested early in the morning, before it gets too warm and much of their moisture has evaporated, leaving them warm and wilted [yuck]. Armed with kitchen scissors and salad spinner, I cut either just the mature outer leaves or entire heads of lettuce. Greens get a quick rinse and spin in the house, and then my salad spinner is popped into the fridge to chill for lunch... and dinner. We eat a lot of salad at Pocket Square Farm. When you're trying to eat sustainably, big salads go a long way toward filling out your meals... and hungry tummies.
A little later in the day, I grab hold of one of my very favorite farm things: my harvest basket. It is large, metal, heavy, and painted sunflower yellow. I love the smooth, spiral-bound handle and its decorative, chicken-wire-esque belly. I wish I could tell you that I found it in a flea market or long-forgotten corner of an antique store, having been owned and used by another farmgirl in another state in another era. But I have to sheepishly admit that I bought it just last year. New. At Crate&Barrel. It's not super eco-friendly, but boy do I adore that store. (Remember I was raised in the OC?)
But it's not just the cool vintage shape that speaks to me, or even the cheerful tone and texture. I love what this basket symbolizes. It represents my mission to feed my family sustainably. It is all the meals we have had or will ever eat that were grown right here at Pocket Square Farm. It embodies the number of miles our vegetables will be driven or flown from some other state or some other country to our dinner table: exactly zero. After all, it is only 26 steps from my kitchen to my raised bed "market." You can't get meals much more local than that!
Tip-toeing among my many raised beds, harvest basket resting on my arm, is like having Easter morning... every single day. If you grew up in a house that celebrated Easter, or at least participated in the annual secular egg hunt, then you might remember that giddy, youthful, innocent feeling of darting here and there, searching out the elusive, colorful prizes, and dropping them victoriously in your plastic grass-lined Easter basket. In my home, Easter morning looks something like this.
Do you remember how it felt? The thrill of the hunt?
Found one!
This photo says it all.
That basket of treasures is his pride and joy.
This is how I feel in my summertime garden.
(But a photo of me hugging my basket wouldn't be nearly as cute.)
That basket of treasures is his pride and joy.
This is how I feel in my summertime garden.
(But a photo of me hugging my basket wouldn't be nearly as cute.)
During the lazy summer months, my yellow harvest basket cradles different prizes on different days. But there are the usual, dependable suspects: eye-popping neon purple eggplant, prickly slicing and pickling cucumbers, tender and juicy tomatoes, furry zucchini (yes, they're hairy when picked right off the plant), handfuls of green beans, and if we're lucky, a golden "Twice as Nice" cantaloupe or two. These are my son's favorite garden treat.
I plan my meals for the day based not upon what we'd like to eat, but what I have in my harvest basket. It's definitely an alternative (and more natural) way of planning meals... one my family and friends have gradually become accustomed to. These days, when we're going to be cooking and dining with our best friends, they no longer ask "What do you want to bring?"
"What do you have in your garden today?" they begin. And we go from there.
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