Loving Little America: Letters on Lettuce and a Good Life
"There is a contentedness that comes from that."
Food as a verb thanks
for sponsoring this series
Lot of good news and announcements today, but first, we want to go gentle into this Wednesday with our Loving Little America series.
It's our love letter to 250 years of this country.
Today, we're celebrating lettuce.
Yes, lettuce, that tender green that shoulders each spring and fall season. How many pounds of lettuce have been grown in American soil and backyards? How much joy has lettuce provided?
Every year, I find new varieties I didn't know existed. It's a Goldilocks crop for me: not too hard to grow, not too easy. I love it more than all others.
A few weeks ago, I got an email from a good friend named Virginia.
Her notes have become some of my most favorite emails to read. They have the quality of old letters: written slowly, with care and attention. (Yep, she has a daily letter-writing practice.)
Her email starts with a poem, then winds its way through a series of the smallest events: picking the season's first lettuce, watching the sunset from the truck tailgate, fennel, garage bands.
She writes like those Zen poets, loving eyes focused on the bent pages and corners of our days that we often rush past.
Often, our attention follows the things we love. These emails from Virginia remind me of all the beautiful things — radishes, barns, talking with the sun — that make up a rich day. They have the very quality of old 18th century letters I've seen: slow, agrarian, not bothered by what the world is saying.
Read slowly, my friends. Enjoy. Virginia's words begin here in italics.
There was a poem I read once that I often think upon - by John Drinkwater -
"I told the Sun that I was glad,
I'm sure I don't know why;
Somehow the pleasant way he had
Of shining in the sky,
Just put a notion in my head
That wouldn't it be fun
If, walking on the hill, I said
"I'm happy" to the Sun."
Tonight for dinner we had asparagus from our garden — the second time we have harvested it this season and the first lettuce of the season.
It was a delightful meal — red lentil hummus with roasted carrots, shallots, and a mix of seeds.
Next to it the fresh lettuce that was so young and tender and the asparagus full of flavor they didn't need anything on them.
It made me realize that as much as I believe in eating local from a moral sensibility that even more than the sustainability of decentralized systems, that it is the joy that comes from eating local, eating in season.
Eating food so fresh and in time with the season. I feel like you of all people could make a poem, an ode to eating locally and much like John Drinkwater's poem that often pops into my head in those moments of joy soaking in the sun on a hill, that eating as we were meant to eat, eating as food was meant to be eaten, that there is a contentedness that comes from that, a peacefulness.
And also a recognition of the misfortune our society lives in generally missing the beauty of eating seasonally.
This weekend was one of those slow lovely weekends that make it impossible to want to be online at all. My parents were having a dinner party on Saturday night and so I stuck some leftovers up at the barn to microwave but when I got home 88.1 was playing this great garage band set and the weather was so beautiful that I decided to sit in the bed of my truck and listen to nature and the radio and enjoy the evening.
I stayed there for close to two hours it was so perfectly perfect. I was missing that. When I lived on Kauai, there was a local lookout spot to watch the sunset.
Sometimes I met friends but more often than not I would grab a roadside burrito and beer and watch the sunset by myself. I miss those spots and had wondered what that version was here. And I found it nestled in my parents backyard.
I picked my first strawberries this weekend. It was too early but last year I lost them all to slugs so wanted to get a handful even if not yet fully ripe.
We are really rocking and rolling now. Radishes, bok choy, spinach, arugula, kale, all the herbs and lettuce we could ask for, swiss chard, asparagus is still going strong, my fennel never develops good bulbs but it is still good as an herby additive.
The rest is still coming and needs some time. I tried picking a turnip but it was small so will leave the rest a bit longer.
How gorgeous is this? Does it not affect your nervous system in such a calming way, to read words like that? The small stories, told tenderly, as a way to remember and not forget.
Thanks, Virginia.
Now, some announcements:
The HiLo Market has its grand opening Saturday. You've read about the three women behind this DIY-agrarian-"love letter" — now, it's time to come see it all begin.
Saturday, 9 am to noon.
The HiLo's at a new location: the Highland Park Commons.
2000 Union Ave., in the heart of Highland Park.
Also Saturday?
One of the first warm-weather day retreats at Rising Fawn Garden's retreat center.
It's called Embodied Retreat, and it's one of the upcoming day retreats at the day retreat center in north Georgia.
For me, Rising Fawn and its retreat center are among the most beautiful places I've ever seen in this region. The land, gardens ... this retreat center: I'm not sure I could daydream up anything more easeful, expansive and, in all four corners, beautiful.
Look at the retreat schedule, which updates regularly. (On May 23, there's a foraging workshop.)
Don't forget Monday's Chatt. Cup, an inaugural cocktail competition featuring local bars and bartenders.
It originates with Spencer Streno of St. Reno Events, who wants to celebrate "Chattanooga's cocktail culture."
More info can be found here, at the end of last Wednesday's story.
(Speaking of Chattanooga cocktails, we've got a special story coming this Sunday ...)
Some big news for Chattanooga and Gate Eleven Distillery:
The Beverage Testing Institute recently named Gate Eleven's gin as one of the top gins in the world.
The world!
Here's the good news from Forbes. Congrats to Bill and Wanda Lee and your whole team.
This Saturday, there's a special event with Troy Rogers; his Re-entry Playbook nonprofit is hosting a dinner for formerly incarcerated Chattanoogans who are now back on their feet, working hard and helping others.
Troy's an old friend; our story on the Chainbreakers was one of the most meaningful we've published.
Join me on Saturday. Yesterday, I published a special invitation to all members of The Table.
I promised them what I promise you: it will be a most meaningful night.
Want to join? More info is here.
Story ideas, questions, feedback? Interested in partnering with us? Email: david@foodasaverb.com
This story is 100% human generated; no AI chatbot was used in the creation of this content.
food as a verb thanks our sustaining partner:
food as a verb thanks our story sponsor:
Rising Fawn Gardens
Lot of good news and announcements today, but first, we want to go gentle into this Wednesday with our Loving Little America series.
It's our love letter to 250 years of this country.
Today, we're celebrating lettuce.
Yes, lettuce, that tender green that shoulders each spring and fall season. How many pounds of lettuce have been grown in American soil and backyards? How much joy has lettuce provided?
Every year, I find new varieties I didn't know existed. It's a Goldilocks crop for me: not too hard to grow, not too easy. I love it more than all others.
A few weeks ago, I got an email from a good friend named Virginia.
Her notes have become some of my most favorite emails to read. They have the quality of old letters: written slowly, with care and attention. (Yep, she has a daily letter-writing practice.)
Her email starts with a poem, then winds its way through a series of the smallest events: picking the season's first lettuce, watching the sunset from the truck tailgate, fennel, garage bands.
She writes like those Zen poets, loving eyes focused on the bent pages and corners of our days that we often rush past.
Often, our attention follows the things we love. These emails from Virginia remind me of all the beautiful things — radishes, barns, talking with the sun — that make up a rich day. They have the very quality of old 18th century letters I've seen: slow, agrarian, not bothered by what the world is saying.
Read slowly, my friends. Enjoy. Virginia's words begin here in italics.
There was a poem I read once that I often think upon - by John Drinkwater -
"I told the Sun that I was glad,
I'm sure I don't know why;
Somehow the pleasant way he had
Of shining in the sky,
Just put a notion in my head
That wouldn't it be fun
If, walking on the hill, I said
"I'm happy" to the Sun."
Tonight for dinner we had asparagus from our garden — the second time we have harvested it this season and the first lettuce of the season.
It was a delightful meal — red lentil hummus with roasted carrots, shallots, and a mix of seeds.
Next to it the fresh lettuce that was so young and tender and the asparagus full of flavor they didn't need anything on them.
It made me realize that as much as I believe in eating local from a moral sensibility that even more than the sustainability of decentralized systems, that it is the joy that comes from eating local, eating in season.
Eating food so fresh and in time with the season. I feel like you of all people could make a poem, an ode to eating locally and much like John Drinkwater's poem that often pops into my head in those moments of joy soaking in the sun on a hill, that eating as we were meant to eat, eating as food was meant to be eaten, that there is a contentedness that comes from that, a peacefulness.
And also a recognition of the misfortune our society lives in generally missing the beauty of eating seasonally.
This weekend was one of those slow lovely weekends that make it impossible to want to be online at all. My parents were having a dinner party on Saturday night and so I stuck some leftovers up at the barn to microwave but when I got home 88.1 was playing this great garage band set and the weather was so beautiful that I decided to sit in the bed of my truck and listen to nature and the radio and enjoy the evening.
I stayed there for close to two hours it was so perfectly perfect. I was missing that. When I lived on Kauai, there was a local lookout spot to watch the sunset.
Sometimes I met friends but more often than not I would grab a roadside burrito and beer and watch the sunset by myself. I miss those spots and had wondered what that version was here. And I found it nestled in my parents backyard.
I picked my first strawberries this weekend. It was too early but last year I lost them all to slugs so wanted to get a handful even if not yet fully ripe.
We are really rocking and rolling now. Radishes, bok choy, spinach, arugula, kale, all the herbs and lettuce we could ask for, swiss chard, asparagus is still going strong, my fennel never develops good bulbs but it is still good as an herby additive.
The rest is still coming and needs some time. I tried picking a turnip but it was small so will leave the rest a bit longer.
How gorgeous is this? Does it not affect your nervous system in such a calming way, to read words like that? The small stories, told tenderly, as a way to remember and not forget.
Thanks, Virginia.
Now, some announcements:
The HiLo Market has its grand opening Saturday. You've read about the three women behind this DIY-agrarian-"love letter" — now, it's time to come see it all begin.
Saturday, 9 am to noon.
The HiLo's at a new location: the Highland Park Commons.
2000 Union Ave., in the heart of Highland Park.
Also Saturday?
One of the first warm-weather day retreats at Rising Fawn Garden's retreat center.
It's called Embodied Retreat, and it's one of the upcoming day retreats at the day retreat center in north Georgia.
For me, Rising Fawn and its retreat center are among the most beautiful places I've ever seen in this region. The land, gardens ... this retreat center: I'm not sure I could daydream up anything more easeful, expansive and, in all four corners, beautiful.
Look at the retreat schedule, which updates regularly. (On May 23, there's a foraging workshop.)
Don't forget Monday's Chatt. Cup, an inaugural cocktail competition featuring local bars and bartenders.
It originates with Spencer Streno of St. Reno Events, who wants to celebrate "Chattanooga's cocktail culture."
More info can be found here, at the end of last Wednesday's story.
(Speaking of Chattanooga cocktails, we've got a special story coming this Sunday ...)
Some big news for Chattanooga and Gate Eleven Distillery:
The Beverage Testing Institute recently named Gate Eleven's gin as one of the top gins in the world.
The world!
Here's the good news from Forbes. Congrats to Bill and Wanda Lee and your whole team.
This Saturday, there's a special event with Troy Rogers; his Re-entry Playbook nonprofit is hosting a dinner for formerly incarcerated Chattanoogans who are now back on their feet, working hard and helping others.
Troy's an old friend; our story on the Chainbreakers was one of the most meaningful we've published.
Join me on Saturday. Yesterday, I published a special invitation to all members of The Table.
I promised them what I promise you: it will be a most meaningful night.
Want to join? More info is here.
Story ideas, questions, feedback? Interested in partnering with us? Email: david@foodasaverb.com
This story is 100% human generated; no AI chatbot was used in the creation of this content.
Food as a verb thanks our story sponsor:
Food as a Verb Thanks our sustaining partner:
Food as a verb thanks our story sponsor:
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