Happy Sunday, dear readers – the last Sunday in August! September and fall are around the corner.
With summer’s close comes the continuing harvest and a flood of produce. My farmer’s market basket this week held eight glorious, deep green poblano peppers, as well as full bags of luscious nectarines and apples. The colors alone make me swoon. And when I’m done admiring them, I will have to quickly find ways to use this bounty.
We are blessed with bounty in the US. Sometimes, over-blessed. I’ve read several items in the last few months about the paradox of food waste in a country where too many people still go hungry. Some estimates suggest that as much as 40% of available food may go to waste for one reason or another. That’ll rock you back on your heels. If I buy ten meals only to throw out four of them while someone in my community is going hungry … Well. That thought feels completely horrible.
There are good people doing something about it. Food pantries and feeding kitchens do a lot. And, in keeping with my current search for “Yes, and” news, I discovered that there is a place in Cincinnati doing even more. I found out about La Soupe in a feature story in Fast Company (a business magazine I absolutely love for its vibrant support of entrepreneurs and thoughtful ideas). At La Soupe, they collect produce from local supermarkets and restaurants that is about to be discarded and turn it into amazing seasonal soups that can be frozen and then distributed to those in need all through the area. The portion of the food that comes in that truly cannot be used for human consumption is turned over to farms for animal feed. This is just brilliant. It takes a problem and turns it into a product that gives food to the hungry, sends less to landfills, and creates a new food ecosystem in the community.
Here is a link to the Fast Company feature: Big Batches of Soup
And a link to La Soupe’s website: La Soupe
It makes my heart happy to share their story and their good work. And it inspires to me think about the ways I can make a difference.
Hoping you are blessed with bounty.
There’s a phrase I recently learned from some reading I’m doing for my work, “Yes, and…” It’s a phrase used in improv to keep the scene moving when the dialog goes from one actor to another. In the last few days I’ve been wondering, can we use it to maintain a conversation in real life. Even in hard conversations about the things that can divide us. “I am worried that if we develop that wild area, we will lose something irreplaceable.” “Yes, and I’m worried that if we don’t have new sources of revenue, I will lose my job.”
A truly loving person would be concerned about these misguided souls and wonder how to bring them back to the fold. That’s not me. I don’t wish ill upon persons. But I don’t want those persons near me or those I love. My great grandfather was a shop owner and a rabbi. He and his family came to Denver in the early 1900s, where they raised their children. He and my great grandmother died before I was born; I was named for her. My only relics are a couple grainy old photos, including one of him in his vestments, with a long beard. I remember the pure electric jolt of standing on a staircase in the Holocaust Museum, staring at a wall of pictures, seeing one of a rabbi so similar it could have been his twin. People like me died because other people wanted to exterminate those who worshipped differently. The viciousness of that still stuns me. Seeing it resurrected on a college campus and in public discourse is beyond disgusting.
“Start where you are.” Right here, right now. Not when you get to some mythical place, not when you’re better at x,y, or z, not when you lose twenty pounds. Right now. 
redemption. The weekend arrives and I am determined to get this thing fixed. I call a friend – he spends some time rifling through a basement full of tools from oil rigs and he doesn’t have anything either. I strap on my boots and head to Hardware Mecca at the mall. I tell the fellow who comes to help that I need a big wrench for this plumbing nut on the bottom of the commode. He looks doubtful. The only open-end wrench big enough weighs about five pounds and it’s too long to fit in the space. And – by the way – costs as much as the toilet, so we’re not going there. He takes me back to the plumbing supplies and we find – TA-DA! – a pipe wrench that is flat and has a plastic protector on the jaws and only costs 6 bucks. To be sure, he takes it out of the package and we try it on the nut from the new assemblage that I was smart enough to bring with me. (As an aside, I am betting I am the only woman in the mall that day carrying a toilet part on her key ring. Points to me!) It grabs with a nice tight fit. Woo-hoo! I feel a surge of hope.
Since signing on to the CSA at my local farmers market, my favorite summer game had been what I call “Market Tetris” – I look at what the basket holds for the week, what I have in the pantry and then figure out the meals that can use it all, fitting my fresh goodies in and around what else I have, so that it all goes together. This also involves nibbling on the fresh produce to find out how strong the scallions are (VERY!) and what the basil tastes like (minty!) And trying to stare down a large yellow flying saucer of a pattypan squash… Then my kitchen assistant (Google – ha!) and I go to work.
I had first-hand evidence of ingenuity and interdependence parading across my counters a few days ago. I am participating in a ten week summer CSA at my local farmer’s market. CSA stands for community supported agriculture. Customers buy shares for a weekly portion of the goods that come in. The producers get a guaranteed income for their work, and everyone gets to eat like kings. To me, that’s the best of independence and interdependence wrapped up in one gorgeously dimpled heirloom tomato. I love the idea of supporting the farmers who grow my food, knowing where and how my food was grown, and making my community both more cohesive and more economically independent. Talk about the best of both worlds!
went out with a little extra water to top them up. The cucumber has gone from a tiny four-inch seedling to a flowering vine in a week. In a day or two that flower will give way to fruit. Now that’s what I call “fast food”! I’ll look forward to enjoying them with the squash and tomatoes as summer rounds to fall.
heresaquarter 