I feel like I should have started this blog years ago, as my locavore tendencies have been a long time in the making. But alas, I have been having too much fun exploring the culinary offerings of my various homes to even think about documenting my adventures (and misadventures) in blog form. If I went back to the beginning it would take years to get you up to speed. So I am forced to start with the now, this present moment, (or possibly the moment before it) where I had the thought “I bet someone would be interested in my life and what I have to say about food.” And as you read this you prove that my crazy thought was right.
I have been sucked into to a wondrous foodie world, and I would love to share it with you. I care about where my food comes from. Ideally I want it to come from my own sweat, sore muscles, and dirty fingernails… but I will settle for the farmer up the road. I want to taste the “terroir” of the land it came from. I want to know that the pork chop I had last night came from a pig named Sam, and that Sam was allowed to be his piggiest self while he was living. I want to discuss heirloom tomatoes with the neighboring plot owner at my community garden. I want to find the perfect morel spot in the woods and fry them up with butter and ramps like I did as a child. I want the freshest peaches from the tree, so taught they burst with juice as I pop them with my teeth.
I am a cook, explorer, traveler, photographer, gardener, and forager, and I want to eat the food less traveled.