The Garden of Your Dreams (well, at least mine)

I don’t know about the rest of you but, it has always been my dream to have my own farm. I know, it’s quite a lofty yet strange dream but, I find the deepest satisfaction from watching seeds grow to buds, to flowers, to produce. I also like to be able to show people that these hands that cannot lift five pounds can produce that weight in one small eggplant. I also wouldn’t mind some lively farm animals like cows, chickens, or pigs (I have heard that pigs are much the same like dogs and will be eternally loyal to you if you don’t eat them).
Essentially, I think farmers have the best life. Waking up early in the morning to see the sun rise, toiling in the fields worrying only about your baby crops, using the produce to make fabulous meals, and then retiring to bed just in time to see the sun set. Sigh. There is just something so magical and pure to be able to say that that squash you’re eating came from my blood, sweet, and tears. The feeling of the soil encrusted under your fingernails is incomparable and the calluses you develop on your palms from the constant weeding cannot be explained by mere words alone. So yes, maybe I was born in the wrong century but, my strange dream still hasn’t ruined or cost me any friendships (my friend Alex would certainly disagree); yet.
After an interesting dinner of Cheerios and vanilla soy milk with chickpeas, cucumbers, humus, and French fries, with my camera in hand I headed to Hamilton’s community garden on the far end of campus. I was unsuccessful to recruit any of my friends to pose for pictures so, I made the 5 minutes schlep by myself. Though I am not the greatest photographer on the planet (though I have taught three of family members to use my camera successfully) the setting sun did add a nice backdrop and artistic touch to the pictures.
To give my readers (I think I only have two at the moment) a little history: The Hamilton community garden was founded about 2 years ago by eager young collegiate fellows. The garden is open to the entire campus and has many varieties of vegetables including: tomatoes (cherry and large), potatoes (which I helped harvest), squash, carrots, pumpkins, corn, peppers, swiss chard, rainbow chard, herbs (sage, rosemary), rutabaga, and a plethora of flowers. For my FOOD FOR THOUGHT class (I will explain in a later post) I have been given a little plot of land to tend to which includes several varieties of pretty flowers and rutabaga. Although I wanted a section occupied by more produce, I am content with my small but, manageable plot. What makes this garden so cool is that you can pick up any vegetable you want, straight from the ground, and put it in your mouth without the smallest hesitation. I proudly pulled a large carrot from the ground a few days ago and though it was covered by several layers of dirt, it still tasted amazingly sweet. In fact, the added amount of dirt did much for the flavor of the carrot. Think of dirt as fleur de sel; a slight bit of salt adds much to flavor.
I must honest and say that much of the garden vegetables are currently invested by various fungi or bugs; I’m not quite sure which. The organisms are particularly fond of the tomatoes, which is quite unfortunate since we are in prime tomato season. Of course, I want join the Community Garden club to help care for the plot of land, but so far the closest I’ve gotten to tending the produce has been stealthily stealing a cherry tomato from a hanging vine that we were told not to touch. Jeez, I hope that’s ok? If not, I’m sure the fungi will work wonders on my digestive system. ENJOY THE PRETTY PICTURES.

How a brownie can ruin your day

For the past few days I have ended my lunch and dinner meals with a chocolate brownie. To be quite frank, the brownie tastes horrible. It’s dry, overly sweet, and much too cakey. Sometimes it’s covered by a layer of thick glistening frosting, various syrups (mint or strawberry), or covered with highly decorative, colorful sprinkles. No matter what condiment is added, the brownie still remains quite tasteless. However, I am a creature of habit and I have continued to eat the aforementioned brownie more for continuity than hunger or appreciation.

Tonight, after eating an unhealthy salad (no, this is not an oxymoron) consisting of Asian noodles, chicken, tomatoes, chick peas, lentils, roasted eggplant and sweet potatoes, and cheddar cheese with a splash of strawberry vinaigrette, I headed over to the dessert table. In most cases, I am pretty health conscious and therefore strayed from the looming carrot cake and blueberry pie and picked up my brownie and returned to my table. A few bites later and we had decided to head back towards our dorms to finish any last minute work. On the way out, I spotted a colorful pamphlet with various pictures of fruits and vegetables. It is of little doubt that I picked it up and opened up to the first page, hoping for an interesting read; possibly about local farmers. No such luck came: it was the dreaded nutritional count for all the dining hall foods.

I am still undecided as to whether I like being informed of my healthy choices or to whether I hate being informed of my unhealthy choices. On the one hand, I usually do like to be aware of the calorie and fat content of most foods (I have been known to spend several minutes at grocery stores shelves deciding between brands based on nutritional information) and will usually make my selection based off of what I deem to be nutritionally sound. I don’t always play by this rule because being a “registered” foodie does require some flexibility; there really is no way that pots de cream or risotto can be healthy. On the other hand, being informed of certain foods’ unhealthy nature can make you just not want to eat at all. If I want a slice of cheesecake, I really don’t want to be told how much equivalent of lard I’m consuming.

Back to the brownie story. I opened the pamphlet and absentmindedly found the nutritional count reserved for desserts. My eyes crisscrossed the selection and I was so happy to find that the carrot cake I didn’t take had 500 calories per slice. Likewise, the blueberry pie had 460 calories. “Who would ever eat this stuff?” I pondered. In that moment, I felt so proud, so relieved, that I had chosen a healthier alternative; a two inch brownie that couldn’t possible compare to the calorie count of its other dessert counterparts. Oh, if only I could relive that blissful moment, for I was soon to learn that the brownie was 450 calories!

I felt cheated, hurt, and slightly ready to throw up. No, I am not bulimic or completely obsessed with my weight but, 450 calories!? And the stupid thing wasn’t even good! To make matters far worse, I had also eaten an equally distasteful blondie, that though I did not check was most likely up there in calories. My friend (Alex) turned around and questioned my sorrowful face. After a quick explanation, he too became enraged and ranted that he had eaten three brownies in the last 24 hours alone and was equally disgruntled by their flavor.

So, here I am several hours later, a little bit more composed but, still a little annoyed. Alex and I have vowed not to eat the brownies for at least a few days but, now another problem arises. By what means can we satisfy our chocolate cravings if by not means of a small brownie?

Initial College Dining

I remember the time when I made the long trip down to Bryn Mawr College to visit my sister during her junior year. After many vigorous activities (including attending the most boring neuroscience class ever), my sister brought me to her dining hall for dinner. Never before had I experienced college dining options and it is without question that the first experience is always the most memorable. I remember globs of overly greasy, fried, dog food looking meals that I couldn’t fathom eating let alone watching my sister eat. I therefore headed straight to the cereal section of the hall (luckily breakfast is always an option at Bryn Mawr) and filled my bowl with a combination of Coco Puffs, Cheerios, and Life with a splash of vanilla soy milk. My sister was a little disappointed and confused by my selection and warned me that, “I had better get used to eating this stuff…” for in 3 years time I would too have to succumb to eating “undistinguishable crap”.

Well those three years past quickly by and two weeks ago I too found myself faced with the same disappointing food selection. The endless lines of the ubiquitous college food (pizza, hot dogs, hamburgers, French fries) was particularly dominant, with little emphasis or selection at the salad bar. To add insult to injury, the dessert table was laden with only chocolate chip cookies and dry brownies. My initial acquaintances labeled me a “food snob” and laughed much the same way my sister did when I brought a bowl of cereal (without my beloved soy milk) to the dining table.

I left two days later for a pre-orientation program in the Adirondack Mountains and this time was forced to eat milk and cereal for the lack of dining options was somewhat limited by lack of stove. Coming back to campus with my newly bought jeans slipping beyond my waist, I headed to the dining hall again, expecting to see more pizza, hamburgers, and mozzarella blobs.
This is the point in the story when I would hope to write of a revelation/epiphany of sorts. However, though I cannot write that the food was Le Bernadine style quality (yes, I do know that that style of quality cannot be expected from a college facility), I can safely say that the food improved by tenfold. The appearance of the upperclassmen jolted the dining hall awake and upon my arrival I was greeted by an array of freshly-made hummus, local green beans, barley tomato salad, and a hearty slice of wheat bread. The next day brought sushi (though the shrimp and salmon were cooked), the next Chinese stir-fry, and the next a make-your-own omelet bar.
I believe that two weeks of college dining has given me back some of the weight I initially lost on my long hike through mountainous trails. For the moment I am content and also rather pleased to report that Bon Appetit (the service that runs Hamilton’s dining services) uses as much produce from local, organic farmers as possible to feed a community of 1700.

My only qualm as of late is why the dining service decided to remove the chocolate soy milk from the dispensers in the dining hall. COME ON! WHO DOESN’T WANT A BOOST OF CALCIUM, FORTIDIED VITAMIN D, AND GREAT FLAVOR DURING MEAL TIMES!