All posts tagged: Brooklyn Grange

When Friends Ask You to Pick Up Their CSA Share (Part 2)

You wonder if there is a poem out there that celebrates this moment. Between friends and between yourself and all the veggies, is there a poem? If not, perhaps you could write one, in the same breath as Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude, about every saturated-in-color vegetable and fruit that comes home with you on the first Saturday of September–this year and last. But if there is a chance you’ve been feeling less like a poet these days, meaning, you haven’t broken a line in a long while for the sake of sound, silence, and meaning, then you become–you are–a poet in your kitchen, roasting tomatoes with whole cloves of garlic. The woody scent of thyme and rosemary from your garden when met with high heat can make you long for the long, deliberate drizzle of rosemary-infused olive oil, and flaky salt, which you know your tomatoes love. You’ve a mind and heart towards Tory and Jon, who shared their share with you as they made their big move into Corona. Think of all the dinner …

when your friend asks you to pick up her CSA share

1. you say Yes. 2. at first, you think you’ve been asked this because Tory is going to be away that Saturday and she just needs someone to keep her veggie loves nice and safe. still, you say Yes. and you are already delighted because any reason to go back to the Brooklyn Grange will always be a really damn good reason. (VEGGIES AND CHICKENS AND BEES, OH MY.) but most importantly, your friend asked you to do something for her; you say Yes. 3. through FB messenger, you ask her when you guys can meet so you can give her all her veggie goods. she takes a moment to respond. maybe she’s laughing. maybe she called her husband, Jon, over, to tell him what Crystal just asked. and then after a minute or two, she says, “no no I meant for you to keep it!” and your jaw drops. this is really about love. Tory could’ve chosen anyone, but really, she chose you. this may seem insignificant to some. it’s just veggies, right? but no. it’s just …

my garlic scaped week

I will gladly eat the almost-flowering buds of a hardneck garlic bulb. I would also eat their flowers, but I haven’t seen them in bloom yet. I saw these wild scapes at the farmers’ market for 2 bucks and needed to have them. They reminded me of the strange curl of my hair, each thick strand curving in a different direction, looping dramatically each morning. This bunch had about 18 scapes and I put them in every dish I could think of for the week. They are a tad bit less intense than garlic itself, but the garlic flavor is still clearly present. The first dish was Lemon Scaped Pasta with Roasted Grape Tomatoes. I filled my cast iron pan with cut scapes, slices of red onion, grape tomatoes, quickly sauteed in olive oil + salt and pepper, then roasted til tomatoes looked ready to pop. I tossed this with thin spaghetti, arugula and spinach, lemon zest and a few squeezes of it’s juice. That’s it. Simple and bright. You can eat it hot or cold. Next day …

from Farm-to-ThankYou

I’ve had a rough week. Rough usually means little-to-none eating (which is CRAZY) because eating n cooking is the only thing that makes my heart sing when everything else is of dim light. But things, lately, have been DIM. So when I ask Tory if she’d like to do anything stress-free this weekend, and she tells me we should head to the farm and then get some meditative coloring done at her home, I know to my heart-core that I have me a very beautiful friend who GETS IT. Who gets me. We went to the Brooklyn Grange to pick up her share of produce for this week.  I got me some radishes, turnips, and their “famous mixed greens.” I went on a little photo excursion as well because that always makes me feel better. There were CHICKENS on this roof, errbody. Chickens and BEES, all sorts of lettuces, a purplish bulb(ous) root vegetable bruised with dew called Kohlrabi. There were rows of onions, squash, purple basil, chard, herbs, flowers. Tomatoes that have yet bloomed red. It …