I have discovered the fringes of restaurant supply houses, taking a few tips from the pros while retaining the hands-on approach that imbues the feast with the cook’s energy, essential to the success of the event—at least in my opinion. But my amateur catering is pushing my home appliances to their limits: the fridge is full—there is no other word for it—and I needed to borrow British Neighbor’s oven for the second pan of chicken tagine. The meat that came out of the freezer had to defrost in our camping cooler, since there was just no room in the Amana.
We have gathered significant moss, and it’s a lovely gathering. We eat, socialize, and I pack up leftovers for guests to take home; we spend the next week slowly cleaning up and working our way through leftovers.
And so it was that as I sat at my computer last week, calculating cucumbers and tallying tomatoes, when an email came through from my favorite farmer, Erick of Jubilee Biodynamic Farm. His missives, irregular but worth the wait (as I hope this blog is), was full of musings on food shortages and shopping locally. I sighed, knowing that I was purchasing at the co-op and Trader Joe’s rather than the farmer’s market, since Moroccan food is by definition not local and in season here in the Pacific Northwest.
And then I see a little notice that a short, six-week late spring session was beginning this week. I filled out the form and sent it in. In the build up to the party—erecting a tent, cooking, shopping, cooking, and more cooking—I forgot completely about it (along with my dentist appointment this morning, sigh), but an email came today letting me know where to pick up my first box—tomorrow.
Oh, my, we need to empty the fridge. Leftovers, anyone?
