Vermont
And how an emphasis on food can really shape a place.
People often ask what my favorite state was when we were working while traveling for two years (a refresher: we refurbished an RV bus to be off-grid while we circled the United States–twice!--and worked at different farms, for months at a time). We went to almost every state (I am counting ones that we were passing through and ended up breaking down in, causing us to stay past the amount of time we intended. Looking at you, Utah!). Some I don’t care that we missed (South Dakota) and a couple that I am sad we did not get to (Montana). Some I would love to live in but ultimately decided to not settle in for various reasons, whether too expensive or too dry or too far (Oregon, New Mexico, Maine, Colorado), and one state that I would love to live in because it is my ancestral homeland and is the only one I have ever felt truly where I belonged (Texas). Aside from that, I have other trivial opinions about all of the different states (I love Minnesota and Wisconsin, but the rest of the Midwest is a big shrug from me). I was inspired by so many of the farms we visited and worked at, and by those areas’ foodscape scenes.
And with that, there is one state that truly has my heart: Vermont.
When I tell people that, they always ask, “Why Vermont?”. Even Alex is confused; even though this is his ancestral homeland, he likes it only ok, and sort of likens it to a lot of beautiful places we were at. Maybe I can’t exactly explain it, but I will try.
Obviously, it is beautiful. We spent a quick weekend (bookended by chaotic trips from the farm and back to the farm) at a Purim/Maple Syrup celebration in the northern mountains at a farm community, where we got completely snowed in. We were told they had 20 inches of snow the weekend before, so the 10 inches that had just happened seemed like a dusting to these people. A big snow like that may seem like kind of a nightmare to some, but when you are cross-country skiing through a magical whipped cream forest while pixie dust ice crystals dot your face and coat you learn to forgive the fact that you can’t get your car out to the food co-op to pick up some groceries for a day and a half.
Skiing. This was the first time I or the boys had ever cross-country skied, and the first time I have ever skied at all. I am pretty sure I will not like down-hill skiing, but I just loved cross-country. We don’t own skis, but someone was nice enough to lend us theirs, and since then I have been scouring Facebook Marketplace to buy our sets for next winter. Cross-country is actually a good sport for anywhere, even flat places like the Midwest, but there is something special about a thick forest and a rushing river that you are skiing alongside, listening to the silent snow and bubbling water over large storm-colored granite rocks.
Food. I hope to always live in a good food area, and there are so many of them (even if the state is not, of course you can find good food pockets, wherever you are!) but there are definite food apartheids happening all over, in both urban areas and rural areas. I remember one town in northern Arizona, near the Utah border, right outside of the Navajo Nation (which is deemed a “food desert” by the United States Department of Agriculture), that had two gas stations, a casino and no grocery store–just lots of pale brown and reddish sand alongside its desert-encrusted roads, land that is nearly impossible to grow plants into besides a few select spiky survivors, and everywhere felt barren and thirsty for water. We spent the night in a truck stop parking lot and we left quickly the next morning, even though the local gas attendant told me there was “lots of good hiking” nearby. This is an area of the United States that is working on food sovereignty and climate resilient growing, despite its many challenges. (At some point I’d love to work with an organization doing food work in the desert, as I’m so fascinated with the growing conditions). Vermont obviously is in a much different area, but even though it is a mostly a rural state, there is such an emphasis on local food, small environmentally-sound businesses, and the strength of small farms; it is utterly baked into its culture, and you see it supported everywhere.
Of course, nowhere is perfect, and Vermont, unfortunately, is much more expensive than other states, so farming there can be filled with obstacles. Vermont is also not immune to the other problems plaguing the nation, like climate change issues (like flooding, as we saw last summer) and the wealth gap that has been slowing widening over the last couple decades. And while it’s not this tiny state’s fault (you should see how many off-grid solar-powered farms we saw!), because of this planet’s human activity, no one is truly safe from climate change and other catastrophes, as we know. But like those communities that are putting up solar panels, we still have to live in this world, and try our best while we do; Vermont is just good at leading by example.
What I’ve been cooking:
After Vermont, my and the boys’ schools had spring break start. The boys and I took a very fast trip to Chicago where I just holed up at my parents’ house, who are both dealing with separate broken bone issues, among other things, making it difficult or not possible for my parents to cook, drive, or do much at all. I spent hours cooking food and freezing it for them so I can put my mind at ease that they can at least have healthy meals to eat. I focused on bone-building foods (like bone broth and green vegetables) and put in tons of medicinal spices. The main freezer meals I got done were: white bean chicken chili, black bean and kale enchilada casserole, beef and vegetable curry, and then a Asian-inspired chicken cooked salad. It was pretty tiring and it rained basically every day we were there, but I did at least do what I set out to do. It also made me wonder why I don’t do freezer meals for us here.
We also had a horrible airport experience where we had to land in Pittsburgh en route back to New York, and then got stuck in the airport for a whole day and had to eventually get a hotel to fly out the next morning. We spent many hours in a food court, and it sent me into a rabbit hole of remembering mall food courts (I had to explain to the boys about going to a mall) and remembering ordering the ubiquitous 80s and 90s mall drink, the Orange Julius. Anyone remember those? Something about the dreamsicle-in-a-cup, creamy orange drink that I just think of as one of the best combinations of all time. I then developed how to make a healthy Orange Julius–it is not as sweet as what you might remember, so add more honey if you’d like.
Oranges and citrus season is ending soon (move over winter fruit, make way for spring and summer!). So enjoy the end of its season with this treat.
Healthy Orange Julius
1 cup orange juice
2-4 whole tangerines, peeled
1 container coconut yogurt (unsweetened)
½ teaspoon vanilla
1 tablespoon of vanilla collagen powder (optional)
1 tablespoon of honey
A tad of tangerine zest to add to the top of each drink (optional)
Put all ingredients in a blender and mix until smooth. Serve with a glass or metal straw for the true mall experience.
In Other News:
This week is Hudson Valley Restaurant Week, so a lot of restaurants around here have set menus for a very reasonable price. Chicago and its surrounding areas always had so many amazing restaurants that participated in Restaurant Weeks, but while we had the farm we were always too busy and too poor and too kid-bound to go to any of them. (Restaurant week aside, we basically didn’t go out to eat at a nice restaurant for approximately 10 years.) We went last night to the DeBruce, a farm-to-table restaurant where we had the fixed menu of sunchoke soup (amazing), roasted local trout with shaved brussel sprouts (so good), and elderflower ice cream for dessert. (There were choices to these three courses, so Huck got the mushroom gnocchi and River and Alex got the bone marrow-onion cheeseburgers instead of the trout. I think the trout was the best dish though!). Since we don’t go out to eat often, I really soak up these experiences for inspiration of what I can do at home. Every bite was eaten since our boys have become insatiable at the table, and also, Alex and I went right from work to pick them up from school to drive straight there, so we were all starving. Anyway, it was a really fun experience, and probably the prettiest restaurant I have ever eaten at, with windows viewing the mountains and being seated right by the woodstove. Someone, take me back!
While we definitely don’t live in a foodie town or a good food city (see: Chicago, any town in Vermont), luckily there are a couple of places that we can eat at seldomly, and the rest of the time, we just have to be our own farm-to-table restaurant. I just need to learn how to make that sunchoke soup and cook a perfect roasted trout!
And finally! Obviously, I have not relaunched the paid newsletters yet—but the relaunch is coming, complete with bells and whistles, and what that looks like will be explained soon, in all of its delicious glory! Thanks in advance for your support!