Living in NYC it’s remarkably easy to forget to think about where our food comes from. It’s far too convenient to eat out three meals a day or buy prepared food, especially when every street corner is full of culinary possibility. But being a New Yorker who feels a down-low tingle about visiting their nearest farmer’s market or likes to see little labels in the store telling you exactly where the veggies hail from, it’s exciting to find the rare resource that guides people toward the farmin’ city life, without feeling horrifically restricted. It’s becoming more and more relevant to question everything about your food, seemingly because all of our food is becoming more questionable.
My husband Evan tells me I’m an obstinate idealist in need of an outlet. Solution: blog… or, as I sometimes say with a sigh, “blerg.”
I like writing and storytelling and I’m fond of chatting people’s heads off. I like to boulder and do yoga, but spin class scares me. I’m unreasonably obsessed with my Frye boots and am wholly resistant to buying other shoes. I like design and putting things in color order and impulsively rearranging rooms. I don’t like when people refer to women as girls, and I’m exhausted by the dialogue surrounding millennials.
When Evan isn’t being a save-the-world type nerd and doing science – or as our then six-year-old nephew described him to his friends, “a snowboarding-lifeguard-scientist,” combining three very different stages in Evan’s life – he likes to build things with his hands, drink pretentious beer, take pictures, fall asleep before nine, and unabashedly praise Gail Collins.
We both love to create, travel, and cook and we enjoy having loved ones over for dinner. Then we like to eat and eat and eat and eat, and talk about food.
When it comes to being a conscientious eater, one who is thoughtful about sustainability, nutrition, food justice, animal rights, and the importance of food on family and culture, it can be draining. Our rule of thumb is to do what you can, and go easy on yourself. A thought we come back to time and again is that when you assign a label to yourself, it’s hard for people not to want to challenge your contradictions. We are always changing. But for the purpose of clarity, as of late, Evan eats mostly vegetarian and I eat [sometimes] vegan. I’ve always wanted to be the kind of vegetarian that graciously accepts when meat is offered to them in someone else’s home. But alas, I cannot bring myself to be quite so polite; it is too high a priority for me to change. Evan is that kind of vegetarian, and I admire him for it. These days, I’m that kind of vegan.
A few years ago, in an attempt to track down the root of our little family’s food intake, we joined a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture). The bulk of our writings pertain to how we’ve applied our CSA share to both our dinner and our consciousness. We’ve written about trips to nearby farms, and shared both recipes and some of the minutia of our daily life. We’re proud to be NYC-farm-savvy and part of the retro-revolution of food consciousness. New York is actively changing in that markets are starting to meet the demand for local foods, farmers markets are popping up everywhere, and CSAs have become delightfully trendy. And as Evan said begrudgingly: “Thanks to one portion of the hipster movement it’s now cool to make things at home.”
We’ve become more and more deliberate about how our decisions in the way we buy, cook, and nourish ourselves impact our community, and the world at large.
Thanks so much for tuning in.
Lovingly written by Maggie Tauranac (with occasional input from Evan Bardot).