Summer Farm to Table Meal

This week here in central Texas a rarity occurred, rain. If you are living in Texas or have glanced at a national weather map lately, you will probably notice that most of Texas is experiencing a D4 drought, or in other words an exceptional drought- not sever or extreme, but exceptional. The past nine months have been the driest period since the state began keeping rainfall records back in 1895. Evidence of this drought is apparent in the grocery stores, farmer’s markets, and even my own garden at home. That being said, any and all precipitation is welcomed.

There is nothing I enjoy more than a good Texas thunderstorm. As I sat this past Tuesday watching the clouds roll in I held my breath, hoping and praying rain would come. Sure enough late that afternoon the thunder began followed by a steady downpour. The rain brought brief relief from the scorching 100s, and I couldn’t help but want to just curl up on the couch with a cup of tea. The dampness in the air made me yearn for some soul warming food. While I felt it a bit too early in the year to bust out the yams and cranberry sauce, I instead decided to conjure up my own warm summer farm fresh meal. Homegrown vegetables alongside some juicy Texas peaches and other summer flavors were the basis of my menu.

When I think of soul warming, taste bud satisfying food, I think roast. Whether it be roast beef, pork loin, or Cornish game hen, no meal is homier and satisfyingly soul warming than a meal with one of these. With chicken on hand, I made a simple rub of fresh basil and garlic, pan seared them, topped them off with my homemade preserved lemons, threw in some red onions and sent them in the oven to roast.

This summer I was so excited when my family decided to grow okra. Now I’ve already told you about my favorite fruit, mangos, but my favorite vegetable hands down is okra. I’ve spent the past four years on the west coast and sadly okra is an anomaly there. It is such an anomaly that when on the off chance the grocery store would have okra in stock, the checker at the registrar would have to ask me what this certain produce was. I did my best to educate my west coast friends. Most when confronted with okra think it some type of pepper. Shaking my head, I’m always quick to correct them and show them the light. Many people, including some southerners, are not fans of this vegetable, claiming it is slimy. For those I’m again, quick to shed some light on their misconceptions. Okra is best when they are small no more than a couple inches otherwise they get tough. Secondly, steam okra (never boil) for only a few minutes, this way the okra will not be overwhelmingly slimy. Pickled and fried okra are always delicious treats as well! Lastly, there is the age-old debate of does one eat the tops of the okra? If you ask my dad, then yes-ask my mom and you get a different answer. For me it is a personal choice. In my eyes, there is no wrong way to eat okra and tonight it was on the menu.      

With the protein and vegetable taken care of, dessert was all that was left. With some left over pastry dough in the freezer and juicy Texas peaches that needed to be eaten I threw together a peach and blueberry tart.

Who says summer meals have to be full of cold salads and popsicles?

The Kitchen Table

Growing up my family made it a point to sit down together at the dinner table the majority of nights. This enabled us to not only share in a dining experience, but to share in each other’s lives. No TV, no telephone, no books at the table. For at least half an hour each night, we would decompress from the day and reconnect with one another. This being said, in a sense our kitchen tables bear witness to our lives.

The invitation to dine together and taste the food prepared for you, is an invitation to participate in one another’s lives. Therefore, the kitchen table has come to be a place to proclaim one’s milestones in life. With a plate full of nourishment in front of us, surrounded by people we love, and with the sturdiness of our kitchen table beneath our hands, we find the courage to say, “I have an announcement . . . we’re getting married, I’m moving to New York, I didn’t get into Berkeley.” From highs to lows, our kitchen table experiences it all alongside us.

But more importantly, the kitchen table bears witness to the small mundane parts of our lives. From our first bite of solid food, to the A+ we receive on our spelling test, to conversations of politics and religion, the kitchen table is there to listen.

As I set the table for a dinner party with old family friends, I am reminded of what this table has been through, or more likely, what it has helped me through. Adorned with a white tablecloth, I place fork on the left, knife on the right, preparing to come to the table once again to share in food, laughter and love.

While faces at the table might come and go and the number of seats may change, the kitchen table remains.     

Tin Can Tony

As July 4^th weekend approaches I am reminded of how I celebrated America’s birthday two summers ago. This particular July 4^th weekend I found myself in East Africa at the start of a summer long internship.  I landed at Entebbe airport on a warm summer night greeted by a sign that said “Welcome to the pearl of Africa”, a pleasant and encouraging greeting I thought. Due to the late hour, my field team and I stayed the night in town before making the five-hour drive north to our permanent location, Mbale, Uganda. As we sat in the common room that night taking in the scene around us and enjoying nice conversation, the power blew and the room went black. “Welcome to Africa” said Rodney, our driver. Later that night, as I brushed my teeth using bottled water and climbed into bed under a mosquito net, the words “Welcome to Africa” kept replaying in my head.

The following morning we piled back into the beaten down white Land Rover, holding our breath that it would survive the long bumpy journey ahead. Seeming as it was our first weekend in the country and July 4^th weekend we headed to the mountains.

I believe that one of the best ways to get to know a person or culture is through what they eat. As we prepared for our July 4^th celebration and feast, I quickly realized I was no longer in America. If you want meat you must kill and slaughter it yourself, there’s no supermarket around the corner with a refrigerated meat section. This being a celebration, we needed something special. No ordinary chicken or fish would do. We were thinking big, we were thinking goat.

When one has to kill their own meat, one gains a newfound respect for the animal. Thus, to give our selected goat a respectful and humane slaughter we felt it proper to give it a name. Tin Can Tony became dinner that night. And with any proper Ugandan meal there must be some form of matoke, also known as plantains. Matoke, one of the national dishes of Uganda can be prepared in a variety of ways: steamed in banana leaves, grilled over a charcoal fire and then sprinkled with salt, or boiled and mashed then served with groundnut sauce, a peanut-like sauce. Matoke, unlike meat, is a staple of the Ugandan diet. It’s a starchy white fruit that is honestly quite tasteless but fills you up, and so when you live in a country where 85 percent of the population lives in rural areas, 40 percent of which lives in poverty, it is a vital and necessary food staple.

Now two years later, I find myself this July 4^th a college graduate blessed to be living in a country where I have endless opportunity, and I’ll remember that as I celebrate America’s birthday. Happy July 4^th to all.