Liesbeth brings a huge pan of rhubarb crisp made from fruit harvested in my garden. As she begins to describe what rhubarb is and how it grows, I interrupt.
“Why don’t you show people the actual plant?”
A small group marches down the hill, Ryan on crutches, to investigate.
Everyone love hot dog slices from Three Mile River Farm served on toothpicks ready to dip in spicy mustards. The pieces are firm and tasty, not mushy and vaporous like sort-bought. I made hamburgers small enough to fit dinner rolls. Guests can taste one hamburger topped with golden zucchini relish and another with crisp slices of dill pickles. Both condiments originate from my garden and kitchen.
Table conversation keeps coming back to food.
Phil brings a bag of fresh cherries as well as a pie. Everyone swoons over the shiny crimson orbs.
“The guy at Purity Farm struggled to get this little box of cherries to fit into the paper bag,” Phil tells us. “So I ask him, ‘Are these any good? His answer? He said, I don’t know. They’re my first. I haven’t grown them before!’ "
Those cherries are indeed good. So good I return the following week to buy some more. Paul Desrochers shakes his head and says with his usual terse honesty. “A bear must have gotten them. The tree is stripped of fruit. Took out a couple of branches, too.”
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