The opposite of deprivation

We started our locavore diet a few days ago. We’re not militant about it; I’m aiming for 40 percent local (within 200 miles) and 40 percent regional (Washington, Idaho, Oregon, and western Montana.) I have a long list of exceptions such as Inka, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, lemon juice, steak sauce, olives, goat milk (maybe there’s someone nearby selling it I haven’t discovered yet?), peanuts, almonds, cashews, etc. and the occasional pint of store bought ice cream, among other things. My definition of local doesn’t quite mesh with the Co-op’s definition of local; maybe I can lobby the Co-op to change theirs, since I’m not going to change mine!

Saturday morning was the first farmer’s market of our diet and I rode my bike and took two canvas bags, expecting to get a lot of salad greens and some carrots and chard, forgetting that in the river valleys that bound the Palouse they’ve already got apricots, cherries, green beans, beets, and more. And our local growers had cucumbers, broccoli, kohlrabi, onions, peas, arugula, baby yellow squash, mizuna…

Thinking, “I’ve got another week before I get this chance again” I just kept buying and buying, finishing up with two loaves of bread from Panhandle Artisan Bread (they get their flour from Shepherd’s Grain Cooperative in Spokane, from wheat grown right here!) and a glass of iced horchata made this morning by Patty’s Mexican Kitchen. I’ve got to get a recipe for that stuff. I know it’s rice, sugar, water, and cinnamon – not local at all, but who cares, it’s so good. Maybe I just can just figure it out. Anyway, hauling the bags of stuff back to my bike (I had to use plastic bags offered by vendors so next time I’ll take more canvas) and then figuring out how to pack the load home was a good logistical challenge for 9 am on a Saturday.
The Palouse is particularly well-placed from a locavore’s perspective, or at least it would be if there were still salmon to be had nearby. But for fruits and vegetables and meat, the locavore must be prepared for the sheer bounty of summertime. Eating local in July is the exact opposite of deprivation.

On the menu in the next few days are stir-fry, chard frittata, borscht, and pizza. This morning after the market I made potato salad, green beans w/ balsamic vinaigrette w/ shallots and bacon, and cherry-rhubarb crisp. The satisfaction of cooking and eating such delicious fresh food cheered me up. It had been such a long hard wet winter and I had begun to lose my appetite while still gaining weight (all those lemon cream scones at the Co-op, yikes), a sure sign of trouble.