No easy puns about them I promise

So, fava beans. The farmers market is the place to get baskets of these to de-pod right now, along with flats of strawberries to pluck greens from and cut to freeze to have all year long for fruit beverages, waffles and over ice cream. Strawberries I mean...
I make fava beans steamed with sea salt and olive oil, over whole wheat pasta, next to some catfish.

Sitting in the sunset getting fava beans ready for the pan, watching the bayou flow by and the tomato plants growing on the vine. Life in New Orleans, old city.

Local near and a little far

I just arrived back in town after 6 days out of the city, flying to High Springs Florida for 3 days, then to Houston Texas for the last 2 and half. Interestingly, the ability to stay near the Gulf Coast in or near my own bioregion made for a much easier travel for me it seems. No jet lag or shock over local food options.

I ate at a wonderful restaurant near High Springs called Deneno's (I think) and had a savory pumpkin ravioli with sage butter spiced by much laughter and biographical details being shared around the table with Sharon, AnneMarie, Val and Lucie (more on her later). Lovely evening.
I was also booked by Sharon (the farmers market manager and statewide voice on local food entrepreneurs) in a beautiful B&B called The Grady House run by Paul and Lucie (here she is) Regensdorf, 2 high-powered lawyers late from Miami.
Their story is they went looking for community and a more laid-back lifestyle and found it in this tiny town where outdoor activities like kayaking and hiking are its main tourist draw. (You also gotta see the town sinkhole, where they hold the open air farmers market. I had never seen one or knew they existed.) Lucie is one smart, no nonsense B&B owner, who takes real delight in presenting a gorgeous breakfast with items like croissant French Toast and wonderful filled biscuits.

When I got to Houston, I had booked a basic hotel in an area recommemended by my boss who knows food and knows funky. Even though I was on the edge of one of their godawful highways, I was able to walk in a neighborhood behind and find a great burrito place called Freebird's-where I ate a black bean and veggie with spinach tortilla with very fresh ingredients and a lively staff-and a couple of other local hangouts, one, of course, being the great farmers market off Richmond. Also went to a veggie Thai place with Bayou City farmers market manager, Jacquie (do you see a pattern here? The managers, not the veggies...)

I enjoyed both cities and the people, probably because I was able to be around local farmers, managers, food people who use their time and talents to further their sustainable food system. I found a fascinating connection in that all 3 areas grow satsumas, but view them quite differently: the High Springs area consider them lower quality citrus than other citrus, Houston has many varieties that I had not heard of on their market tables but only in very small amounts and, of course, New Orleans is in the middle of satsuma-mania right now. How illuminating to see the end result of now-unknown reasons for the valuing or de-valuing of some foods and how that changes modern selection and tastes?

I arrived back in Lagalou in the afternoon of Sunday; and dropped my bags and immediately got on my scooter to reabsorb my city's air, my city's smells (driving by Lil Dizzy's chicken aroma made me smile), and my city's peops; am going to drop by friends to see if I can find some leftovers in someone's fridge to get the local spices back in my system.

Stove sitting

I housesit for a lot of people. As a MidCity-er who is still working on building a new home for me and Maddie the dog, I have carefully dropped hints to all of my housed but traveled friends that I can be your eyes and ears for a few days or weeks when needed.
I must be convincing, because many generous people hand over their keys and tell me to have fun. Lucky aren't I?

When I am about to go housesit (or really I think of it as kitchen-sharing), I tend to daydream for a few days before about a real kitchen with an oven and a place to sit to eat that does not require me piloting my legs around the pole that holds up the FEMA trailer table. My trailer table is even more interesting than most as the things that the poles fit into are not spaced correctly, so one pole leans and is barely useful, so the table is not even secure. People tend to get up from the table, with the palm of their hand on the edge of the table as support-and everything goes flying off to the right. Always a interesting moment.
The FEMA stove top is fine. Powered by propane, it works well for the many days of stir fry or sauteeing I do for most of my fresh farmers market vegetables, and then I use a crockpot or a pot for beans and rice. Fine really.
But when I first opened the stove, I groaned. Literally too small for most dishes, each of the 2 rack levels are either right on the propane burner or an inch from the top of the stove.
still haven't found a good Calphalon dish 1 inch deep and 8 inches wide to fit...

So, no baking. No pears with honey and cloves, or eggplant and tomato casseroles, or persimmon bread (recipe thanks to Charlie Ramos of Lakeview who used to give his friends a week by week update on his front yard tree's ripening fruit), or even a place to keep one dish warm when I cook the other part.
So, when my friends go away, I am sad, but then not so much. Cuz I get to bring my 2 mesh bags of knives, woks, wooden salad bowl, spices and bags of produce from Saturday or Tuesday's market, find the cd player and get chopping. I feel good about using my time in my friend's house to decorate it with great cooking smells and to make a nice meal for myself and a friend or two (yes, visitors okayed by owner!) who I can finally treat to my food, as they probably have done with me.

I often wonder how the lack of ovens among New Orleanians for the last 2 years has affected our annoyance level. If we communicate through food, then the lack of it around the kitchen must explain some of our voting choices and maybe even the Saints issues. I see tons of tiny little kettle grills on front steps now that it is fall, but even that cannot make up for a big old gas stove in a kitchen with lots of counters and a open back door leading to some chairs and a cooler full of beer and cold drinks. Will it take us generations to reclaim the stop-by Sunday bbq, Monday red beans get together (Hey Dave and Anna!), or anyday crawfish boil,and if so, does that mean that until then we will we lose our easy city-wide camaraderie, our multi-generational connections-and worst of all- our greens with pickle meat recipes?

12th bday at Crescent City Farmers Market

The annual celebration to celebrate our downtown open air market was its usual fun, tasty self. Cake, champagne, music from Fredy Omar, cooking demo from Muriel's, and a Vespa parade to Commander's Palace to share produce for their birthday (128th I believe).

And fresh file and shrimp in my market bag to boot.

Gabcasts from the Crescent City Farmers Market