alexandra's kitchen
I find myself in Southern California, a place I never anticipated living. In the fall of 2006, my husband, Ben, withdrew from medical school, determined to become an infantry officer in the Marine Corps. After a year of training in Quantico, Virginia, he received orders to Camp Pendleton, where we moved in January 2008.
Since arriving in sunny California, I have tried to pick up where I left off in Philadelphia: as an avid supporter of the local-food movement; as a food editor for a small newspaper; and as a passionate cook, a beginner gardener, an ardent blogger and an amateur photographer. The transition is still underway.
Most recently, I have been exploring the idea of graphic design. The intro course I am taking at UCLA Extension has exceeded all expectations, and I’m hoping a few more classes will help me find a way to tie my interests in food, photography, blogging, cooking, etc. together.
If you care to keep reading, in the passage below, I have summarized my eating and shopping habits. I am still learning how to be a more conscious eater, and alexandra's kitchen, as some of you know, is my favorite outlet for sharing my findings.
A Summary Of How And Why I Eat The Way I Do:
Eggs have become a weeknight staple; vegetables, the cornerstone of my diet; pasture-raised meats, a delicacy. My dependence on the grocery store has diminished; trips are reserved solely for the necessities: Tabasco, milk, peanut butter. I never shop without my cloth bags.
My Sunday morning revolves around the San Clemente farmers' market, just two blocks from my apartment. From Alicia, I gather two bundles of arugula; from Jordan, a pound of freshly made red pepper linguini; from Don, a dozen farm-fresh eggs. More than providers, these farmers have become my friends.
At the farmers’ market, I plan my weekly dinner menu, stocking up on staples (onions, garlic, shallots and lemons), favorites (Swiss chard and rapini), and whatever else is in season. I’m conscious of the prices — I, like everyone, strive to save money — but the word “cheap” no longer rings as it once did.
I know the higher-than-grocery store prices offered at the farmers’ market reflect the true cost of the foods being sold. They reflect responsible farming practices. They reflect the work of people making honest livings.
Cheap prices — $0.69/lb chicken and $0.89/lb. beef — on the other hand, reflect less than admirable business practices: inhumane treatment of animals; irresponsible disposal of waste; and unsustainable farming methods.
I’m a freelance journalist. My husband is a Marine. We’re not exactly hauling in the dough. Food, however, is one area in which we refuse to economize. We want our children (who aren’t even close to being born) to enjoy the bounty of foods we have savored in our lifetime. We want to play a role in restoring sustainable food systems. For the safety of our country and for the health of our people, we must make an effort to support our local farmers. HDTV can wait; a modest cell phone plan will suffice; eating less meat won’t kill us. (It might actually save us.)
I challenge anyone who believes, “Organics are only for the privileged,” as a colleague suggested to me one day after work. If he and I, both having similar positions at the newspaper I worked for in Philadelphia, were taking home about the same modest paycheck, how could I afford to buy my food at the Fair Food Farmstand but he could not? Choices. My colleague chose to live in the heart of center city; he chose to buy the iPhone just as soon as it was released; he never passed up a chance to eat out with his buddies, (a three-night-a-week tradition); and he never refused a Philly cheesesteak, fearing a vegetable panini might tarnish his image.
Adopting a local, seasonal, plant-centered diet, I have found, has saved us money, and today, Ben and I have grown to truly enjoy this diet. The transition, however, happened gradually. Like many people, I read The Omnivore’s Dilemma — the "gateway drug" — a book that opened my eyes to the ills of our industrial food system, and led me to adopt all sorts of addictive behaviors. I suddenly found myself obsessively seeking out vendors selling grass-fed beef; dissecting the meaning of the “free-range, organic” label on my package of chicken; eyeing the pristine January produce at the supermarket more skeptically; and accepting the higher price (within reason) of anything sold at farmers’ markets. Ben and I even trekked out to Polyface Farm in Swoope, Virginia, where Pollan spent a week learning about grass farming from the legendary Joel Salatin.
At this point, Ben and I were living in Philadelphia, a city with a relatively well-established “farm-to-city” network thanks to its proximity to Lancaster County and the hard work of several organizations: The Food Trust, The White Dog Foundation, and Farm To City. In the spring of 2007, we became members of the Lancaster Farm Fresh Community Supported Agriculture, and every Thursday from May to November, we received a box of freshly harvested, locally grown produce. We picked up our vegetable share at the Fair Food Farmstand in Reading Terminal Market, where we also purchased our eggs, yogurt, raw milk and pasture-raised meats. I never knew how fortunate I was to have access to such an array of locally grown produce and humanely raised meats — from lamb to chicken to beef to pork to bison — until I moved to Southern California.
A duty assignment to Camp Pendleton led my husband and me to the West Coast. While I was sad to leave my friends (and farmers), I was ecstatic to be moving to the land of avocados and lemons. Upon arriving in California, the first order of business, naturally, was to find local sources of foods. I was thrilled to discover the Sunday farmers’ market in my town, where I could purchase beautiful produce, artisan bread and fresh pasta. For protein, however, I was stuck. I researched extensively and learned that few meat and dairy operations exist in my part of the state. Could my Marine husband survive without his grass-fed burger or pasture-raised roast chicken? Certainly. As they say in the Corps: “Adapt and overcome.”
I soon found other sources of protein: eggs and nuts from the farmers' market; canned tuna from an MSC (Marine Stewardship Council)-certified San Diego fishery called American Tuna; and on special occasions, freshly caught fish from the farmers’ market. Meat has become an accessory, and we do not feel deprived as a result. Other foods — sliced avocados and heirloom tomatoes with a sprinkling of sea salt; spicy arugula tossed with locally pressed extra-virgin olive oil and lemon juice; poached farm-fresh eggs over homemade bread — have become our caviar, our filet mignon, our foie gras.
With every food item I purchase, I remember the words of Sam Cantrall, the farmer who introduced me to the concept of CSAs and the importance of supporting local agriculture. “If you eat food,” he told me during a visit to his farm in Glenmoore, Pennsylvania, “you're involved in agriculture." From Sam I learned I could make a difference just from the choices I make at the market. "It's up to the consumers to use their dollar, their purchasing power," Sam told me. "That's going to bring change; that's going to recreate a local, sustainable food system.”
Alexandra Stafford
Last updated 8/17/08