Summertime, and the eatin' is easy

On Saturday, we hosted an impromptu dinner party on the patio for some friends that - thanks to the mercy of Mother Nature - capped perhaps one of the most gloriously sunny days of the summer.

We'd been scheming to do this for months, but somehow always bumped up against one obstacle or another: rain, out-of-town travel, our need to scrape and prep the house for painting, rain, and - have I mentioned it? - rain. Add to this our diminutive living space, and our minimally functional kitchen, and the challenges often didn't seem worth the effort. Where would everyone sit if we couldn't eat outside? How could we possibly prepare a meal for six people in a kitchen built for a gnome? What if people realized we actually can't cook? However, take four friends eager to volunteer as culinary guinea pigs, combine with a serendipitous weather forecast, and voila! We were committed.

So, on Saturday morning - as has become our summertime custom - we hopped on our bikes and rode two miles to the Burlington Farmer's Market to see what we could rustle up. By the end of our excursion (which included a stop at City Market), we had an almost 100% localvore menu:

Hors d'oeuvre
Petit chevre from Doe's Leap Farm
Brother Laurent cheese from Boucher Family Farm
Boucher Blue cheese from Boucher Family Farm
Organic red grapes
Organic stone wheat crackers

Main course
Grilled rib-eye steak from Boucher Family Farm with garlic and horseradish cream sauce
Baby artichokes from Half Pint Farm, sauteed in garlic and olive oil
Roasted beets, fingerling potatoes, and carrots from Half Pint Farm
German rye bread from Adam's Village Bakery in Westford

Dessert
Vermont maple syrup cheesecake (I can't believe I don't remember the vendor!)
Fresh blueberries from Adam's Berry Farm (Note to self: dumping a cup of sugar directly on top of said berries does not create "blueberry syrup")

With the exception of the red grapes, crackers, olive oil, and spice rub for the steak, every ingredient - down to the horseradish and heavy cream for the sauce - was grown or produced in Vermont. Gorgeous flowers from Pomykala Farm adorned the table, and we even had a local white wine from Shelburne Vineyard - though this was bumped in favor of some decidedly non-local, California varieties. And Kettle One vodka. And bourbon. And port (my brain cells are writhing in agony just thinking about that particular beverage . . . )

Anyway, though we hadn't expressly intended on creating a localvore meal, localvorism is an idea both of us have been toying with, to varying degree, for quite some time. And while I can't speak directly for Rob, my personal interest has recently kicked into high gear due to the convergence of some obvious issues - transportation costs and associated greenhouse gas emissions; recent widespread contamination of the food supply - with unsavory realizations about the corn industry and factory farming (which, if you're interested in this, is thoroughly examined in Michael Pollin's The Omnivore's Dilemma). But, embracing a philosophy - and actually surrendering deeply-rooted habits in order to act on it - are two entirely different things, and until this week we'd considered it a major victory just to have stopped buying half-rotten, out-of-season "produce" and mass-produced, grain-fed meat at Shaw's. This dinner, however, offered a perfect opportunity to experiment - and I have to say, we had a blast. My favorite victory was scoring the local horseradish, even though we did pay close to four times as much for it! It's also particularly satisfying to meet, and actually get to know, the people who are providing our food. The farmers we see each week are, to a one, the most down-to-earth (heh), approachable folks you could imagine.

Since the dinner - which by all accounts was a smashing success, and may just have birthed a sort of monthly Localvore Dinner Challenge among our friends - I've been a bit exuberant about the possibilities. Thanks to our new chest freezer, purchased initially to house our October beef and pork shares, we're already planning to make and store a variety of soups for winter consumption. Yesterday, though, I suggested that we make tray upon tray of vegetable lasagnas to freeze. Oh, and what about canning and jarring what's in season right now? (I've never canned a thing in my life). How about we freeze the blueberries? Can we whip up a gallon of cilantro pesto and throw that in the freezer, too?

Of course, I recognize the ambition of these plans and realize that many of them are unrealistic, at least all at once. But I'm grateful for the mindfulness this experiment provided, because I honestly don't think I can purchase or consume another meal without considering exactly where it came from - or how it got on my plate. I'm not saying I'll never eat another chain-restaurant meal (hel-lo Cheesecake Factory!), but for a former city girl who cut her teeth on McDonald's cheeseburgers, I'm happy for the evolution.

Bon gusto!