By Esther C. Baird, first published in the Ipswich Local News, October 5, 2023
Recently, my friend, who regular readers know as the Voice of Reason (VOR), asked if I’d like to use two weeks of her farm share while she traveled.
“Me?” I clarified against the backdrop of not a single other person. “What would I share?”
She explained that her family bought a “share: of the things grown at, in this case, Appleton Farms.
“So, each week we fill a bag of produce. I mean, you never know what they might have — you could get a giant bundle of Swiss chard!” she exclaimed.
“And then what?” I asked. “What on earth would I do with Swiss chard?”
But she knows that I am a meticulous menu planner. Every Sunday morning, like clockwork, I make the weekly dinner menu and corresponding grocery list. Then, after church, I go to my local supermarket and buy everything.
“So,” the VOR explained, “you could see what produce the farm plans to have and build your menu around it. It’s like a fun puzzle to solve.”
Hmmm.
I’m just going to remind regular readers how well the whole puzzle thing went during the pandemic. (Hint: I still have nightmares about llamas.) Still, I was game to try for two weeks. She gave me her designated farm-share bag, complete with scissors in the bottom, “in case you want to cut something fresh out back.”
Fresher than them cutting and organizing things in the barn? But she insisted. And so I’ve gone. And to be perfectly honest, it was like I fell down a rabbit hole, though I don’t know if it belonged to Peter Rabbit or Alice.
I know we are surrounded by farms here on the North Shore. But I didn’t realize the variety of things they grew. For example, I use bok choy when I make pho. It’s a staple meal for sports-game nights, when we come home late and just want dinner in the crockpot. All this time I thought bok choy was an exotic vegetable from China, (because it is). But fun fact: you can also grow bok choy in Ipswich!
Sure, I got normal stuff like carrots and potatoes, but I also stumbled upon a giant bin of tiny looking … squash?
“Yes!” The lady said. “These are delicata squash, and you can take two!”
“What would I do with two, besides putting them out as ornamental gourds by my mums at the mailbox?”
“Oh!” She laughed. “These are so yummy! You can roast them cubed or in slices, or scoop them out and bake them like potatoes! The possibilities are endless.”
Indeed.
Another thing that was endless was the back garden — the extra fresh area — where, as advertised, I could cut things myself. Armed with the handy scissors, I boldly walked out into the garden. Rows and rows of plants, all apparently edible, awaited me. Within minutes, I found myself strolling around with an armful of lemon balm (balms of any sort had to be good), lavender (why not?) a few hot peppers I clipped from a ground vine, and a bunch of hyssop.
Listen, the only thing I know about hyssop is from Psalm 51, where it says, “Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.” If the Bible was into hyssop, so was I. Theologian and farmer: it just felt right. It also felt exciting — I was slightly muddy, sun-kissed, and inspired.
Dinners were fresh and yummy. Everybody declared that my minestrone soup was one of the greatest things they’d ever eaten.
“It’s the fresh carrots,” I said knowingly.
My roasted delicata squash salad brought down the house. “Well, obviously I roasted the squash in an olive oil and maple syrup glaze.” I exclaimed to the standing ovation. (Except were they maybe still seated?)
Who was I? Do I need to write a cookbook? Am I a farmer? The world may never know. It was an adventurous two weeks of fresh dinners. But my share of the share is over. The VOR is home.
And I’ve popped back out of my rabbit hole into the real world … which looks suspiciously like Stop-N-Shop.