food and views

Saturday is the day when I most often return to a former life: that of a food person. If I devote endless hours now to growing things on farmette lands, it used to be that I would devote the same number of hours, year round, to preparing food. My garden then was small, my kids were at the age where school work and friends filled their hours and so I turned my attention, all my post-work hours, obsessively you might say, to food. 

Those were the years where I moon-lighted at a restaurant, first as an appetizer and dessert line cook, then as a baker in preparation for their Saturday market sales, and finally as a forager at the market, picking up the items on the long produce list left for me by the chef de cuisine. I'd be at the market at 6 a.m., when the farmers were just setting up their stalls. Getting there before the crowds hit the Capitol Square was essential. The restaurant wanted the best of the best. It was my job to find it.

That was then. These days, though I cook dinner every day for us and I think about foods that may (or may not) please Ed (as well as satisfying my own cravings), I don't obsess about it. I no longer fuss, nor do I introduce complexity into the game. But, on summer Saturdays, it all comes back to me as I stock up for the week with a run to Madison's Farmers Market.

Many of the farmers have been selling at the market for decades. They're in their same spot, selling mostly the same foods and when I head out, I make a mental note of who to visit first and what can stand a prolonged carry. Honey -- yes, flowers -- not so much. Today, I parked the car in a 25 minute spot which was unfortunate since it is impossible to do a full circle of the market in just 25 minutes. But, I mapped out how I could accomplish everything in just half an orbit and I set out, determined to get back before the meter ran out.

My mind is full of food thoughts. The stalls are piled high with incredible stuff and I have to marvel at how we have evolved to feed ourselves so well. Ed will say -- at the cost of plowing down fields and radically reducing animal and insect diversity as we plant our soy and corn, and he is of course correct, but still, this is not the way small farmers grow their crops. Theirs are not the fields of corn and soy. And judging by what's in the stalls, many of them have added flowers to their mix, which has to be a good thing! 

I go first to Mary, the Bee Charmer's stall because I'm low on honey. Too, she has great corn and I need to supplement what we picked up yesterday in Oregon. 

I'm all out of corn -- she tells me.

No! Really? 

It went in the first hour. Well, you know, Tory buys a lot.

Ah yes. The chef at my former place of employment. Darn those restaurant foragers who come out with their wagon at 6 in the morning! 

Not to worry -- it's always like this early in the season. Ambrosia takes a while to get going -- Mary reassures me.

And this is where my food loving side kicks in: it's not enough to love just corn: you have to have a favorite variety! Yesterday I wrote about Stoneman's Honey 'n Pearl. Well, the Bee Charmer's Ambrosia is another singularly wonderful variety. It's more delicate, but the taste is also sweet and, well, heavenly. 

They do have copious amounts of corn at a stand that sells nothing but corn and it's good, and it's freshly picked, but I'm looking for something even better. And I find it here:

This guy, like Mary, will be selling Ambrosia in the coming weeks, but today he has Trinity. This variety precedes Ambrosia and he says it's also singularly good.

Some people are really sorry to see it go when Ambrosia comes in! -- he tells me. So I buy a half dozen ears. I cannot wait to gently (and ever so briefly) cook it for dinner.

I need tomatoes too for the week. Here's a beautiful bunch:

And believe it or not, I need eggs. Yep, we had an incident last night that just goes to show you how complicated farm life can be. Very very late last evening, so late that I was all ready to retire upstairs,  Ed said -- oh, I forgot to bring in the eggs from the roosting box. (This box, placed on top of his table saw, is where our girls have been going to lay their eggs. Dont ask me why. I do not understand chicken logic.)

I'll get them -- I offered. We need to retrieve them so that predators wont raid the box.

And what should I find in the box? Henny, one of our older hens. Sleepy, woozy, comfortably settled for the night. Apparently she has gone broody (where she sits for hours on end hoping to hatch her eggs) and Ed did not notice that she was not in the coop when he locked it up for the night. Luckily, the raccoon that has been coming to visit us every single night this summer, had not yet made his rounds or she would have been his supper for sure. But, even though we saved Henny, we do now have a broody chicken who refuses to budge and so the other hens are laying their eggs -- well, who knows where. We can't find them. And I need eggs!

And of course I need flowers for the week. Picking the best bunch is tough, especially when you are on a 25 minute meter and you're giving yourself only half the market and one navigation through it for the day. I go back to a stand where I often find wonderful stuff:

And from the market, I go to Madison Sourdough for bread and breakfast pastries.

Not done yet! I still have my weekly order from Farmers Unite to pick up. It includes sweet and sour Door County cherries. Not thinking deeply about what I was doing, I had placed an order for a "basket" of the sour ones. It turned out to be this much:

So you're going to take out the stones from all those cherries? -- this from an amused Ed, over breakfast.

Uh huh...

And do what?

Bake maybe...

Yes, it's a very food centered day. But food thoughts do not replace outdoor work. Even before going to the market, I snipped lily heads. And I did count today -- I picked off an even 500. I'm sure if I poked around, I'd find one more, but I liked the way 500 felt so I did not look hard for others. Oh, and I took photos because, well, it was so very beautiful out there. Dry again and yes, I'll have to water if this continues (and it looks like it will continue), but still -- so very, very beautiful.

(The four Bresse hens, sunbathing together)

One last flower photo for the day:

In the afternoon, I get this idea that we should hike at Blue Mound State Park. A friend described a recent trek there and I get tempted.

We rarely have gone there over the years. It's a half hour drive and that kind of a commitment is reserved for the best of the best. Still, this one sentence was enough to convince me: 

Perched atop the highest point in southern Wisconsin, Blue Mound State Park offers spectacular views and unique geological features.

I love a place with a view!

There are two lookout towers -- one to the west and one to the east and in-between and all around, there are the trails. (Since it's on a hill, there's quite a bit of up and down which is a good thing!)

We spend a beautiful stretch of time there. Tower to the West:

(It almost looks like we live in a very hilly region, instead of just a somewhat hilly region!)

Tower to the east:

And the trails in-between!

It's a gorgeous place. Well worth the drive. (Yes, I know -- how dare I gripe about a 30 minute trip! You do get spoiled living in Madison!) 

We toss around ideas for supper and finally settle for a very home grown meal: the last of the cheeper eggs with market tomatoes and mushrooms, pan friend new potatoes with onion, a solid salad with farmette cucumbers, and of course corn. Fantastic, memorable corn. 

Are we ever sleepy tonight! Totally zonked, in the best of ways.

With love...