Barbara and Al arrive late to my Sunday picnic. Barbara brings a tray of deviled eggs and the first of many food adventure stories.
“I arrived at the Market behind schedule yesterday,” she tells us breathlessly. “Whit Davis had already sold out of eggs. So had Don Henry. But he referred me to Studio Farm.” Barbara shows off her twelve perfectly grown and perfectly prepared eggs. Golden yolks, mixed with mayonnaise and market herbs overfill each cavity and spill onto perky whiles. With a sense of triumph, she places the tray on the serving table. “I’ve succeeded in my local quest!”
The bocce games winds down and chairs around the picnic tables fill up.
Phil has stepped way beyond his “I-need-a-little-help-here” apprehension. I greeted him at market on Saturday and asked about salad makings.
“Oh, everyone will bring salad stuff,” he replied. “I found something much more exciting.”
And so he did: a Dondero Orchard freshly baked fruit pie. Before he adds his prize to the growing collection of local foods, he solemnly reads aloud the ingredient label for all to hear.
Everyone had taken the challenge of local food seriously but none as literally as Guy. Guy and his family are my back-fence neighbors. He and I also share an interest in gardening and a long-term friendship built on ten years of work together remodeling a barn and completing various landscape projects. Most recently, we have created a joint food garden.
As I set up two long picnic tables and a dozen folding chairs on the lawn by the annual beds, Guy strides down the garden path that connects our two properties. He looks a bit sheepish and folds his arms across his chest before he asks my advice.
“I got a shell-fishing license the other day. Went with a buddy this morning and dug some steamer clams. Shall I cook them up now? Or wait till later?”
I laugh with delight and give him a high-five for ingenuity.
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