If you think eating locally isn't important, you obviously haven't met our sweet and fascinating friends Ron and Ann. Should we miss a market, we are met the next week by a very unhappy Ron. I have to admit, I love it for many reasons! Mostly, though, it is because Ron and Ann make us feel like we matter and that our gals matter. Deeply. And so, an open letter to ...
Dear My Friend Ron,
You make me laugh! I am so glad you and your special Ann find our eggs so good that you are mad with me when I miss the market. It makes me feel like you really like me. Or the girls. Either is fine with me!
I promise, cross my heart, to never miss another market for this season. And, I promise, that you will be able to get your fresh eggs during the winter when nothing else is locally fresh and we have to either eat what we have preserved or things that taste like rubber, or worse, nothing, from other places.
As we have relearned this past week after buying the freshly slaughtered hen, eating locally is so much better. The hen we bought from our fellow vendor, just like the trout we bought a few weeks ago that were caught just five hours before we grilled them, was the most tender, most flakey, and nearly sensual, no, it was deeply sensual, experience of eating we have had in a long time. I cannot eat our hens. It gives me the willies. But, to roast a hen that we had not raised, but was freshly slaughtered, raised on pasture, and weighed, dressed out, nearly five pounds, was almost a spiritual experience. We only had hen and a sweet potato the first night. It was all we needed as she was enough in herself, actually. But, I felt rather guilty to not provide at least some semilance of a vegetable on the plate.
And so, I understand the dismay over store bought eggs. We had a customer tell us yesterday that he feeds his Jack Russell some of our eggs each morning. Just A Bite, he stressed, because, as much as he loves her, he loves our eggs more and doesn't want to share them. He confessed that he had to buy some store eggs, too, and that even his darling puppy wouldn't eat them. She knew the difference!
I only have one request, please, Ron. Would you please use all your powers of persausion (and they run quite deep) to have Ann make just one more of the walnut chocolate pies? I dreamed of them last night.
See you next week! Promise!
Matty and the Mister