Last year, a reader criticized me for being too haphazard in my recordings of my locavore tendencies.
She wanted shopping lists, prices, comparisons and data. And to be fair … that’s not an evil expectation.
But that seems like entirely too much work for my blood…
And really this blog is less about calorie counting and price comparing and more about the community of eating.
The greatest loss to society since the industrialization of food systems hasn’t been the loss of nutrition – it’s been the loss of community – the brotherhood and kinship we once shared around the table.
Every society since the beginning of civilization has put breaking bread above any other activity or tradition. Every holiday was marked by feasting. Every wedding, birth or funeral – any turning of season was welcomed by a shared meal.
Now we just hit the drive-thru on the way home from work.
So rather than a mundane litany of what I ingest on a daily basis, this culinary journey is, and always has been, about meeting people and learning new things.
Which brings me to the point: I got talked into growing flowers by ladies from the Dahlia Society.
Last weekend I went down to the Wenatchee Valley Farmer’s Market looking froward to fresh asparagus and perhaps a fresh salmon. I ended up bringing home flowers that are promised to be, “as big as dinner plates!”
Although I can’t EAT dahlias, my interest was piqued by the colorful pictures of exquisite flowers … and I soon found myself gravitating toward the stall full of silver-haired women hustling and bustling about – all a-twitter about flowers.
Eight bucks and 10 bulbs later I was the proud new owner of what may become a whole flower bed. I was also the recipient of many emphatic entreaties to join local chapter of The Dahlia Society.
The ladies assured me that I would not be the only man in the group and as proof they conjured up an 80-something-year-old man to put my fears of male solitude at rest. After a short conversation he hustled me into buying tags for my soon-to-be “whoppers.” I was impressed with his reasoning of why you should have tags for your dahlias, “How else are you gonna know which is which?”
So though I’m not sure about joining any clubs, I did come home and dutifully plant dahlias that afternoon.
So in 2-3 weeks we’ll see how this little detour in my blog turns out. But even though it wasn’t planned it’s been kind of fun (I’ve always enjoyed digging, as a child I was very good at it I recall). But pretty soon I guess I’ll have flowers as a result. Cool.