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local food from Whatcom County!

Local Eats!

I’m taking a radical turn on the blog here, by making a new entry after an eon of dead air.  I made the blissful journey into finding out where my food comes from. It started innocently enough with a viewing of Food, Inc. followed by The Future of Food,  and finished with Deconstructing Supper. Basically, I went a little bonkers. I know there are a crap ton of food blogs out there, and I hardly want to make this into one, but hey, I’ve found that every job I worked and everything I cherish from my memories revolves around food. During my search, I discovered this: food is our culture condensed. Do you really want to say your culture comes in a box, or from this new family of farmers and all the influences that is this melting pot of a country?

Here’s the thing. I’m tired of the usual food blog that gives all these ridiculously bizarre recipes, substitutions up the wazoo to lower the calories, and my personal favorite to snark on is recipes that consist of using highly processed crap. Isn’t it enough you’re cooking the food that you need to add a bunch of highly modified crap? No thank you! So, after saying this to my ex and other single guys I know, I just want to say, you ate WHAT for dinner last night? C’mon, it’s not that hard to cook, people! Sure, it takes time, sure, it takes care, sure, sometimes it takes longer to cook the damn stuff than to consume it, but it’s that care and love and using the best, healthiest, whole ingredients you can. So, first, let’s meet your meat.

Tuck and her calf

Tuck, a mischevious, but good momma! (Click on pic to see the rest of the herd!)

Do you know where your meat comes form and how it was cared for? What about that fish you’re grilling? Do you know how and when your fish was caught? How about it’s potential species endangerment, are they over fished, are they taking care of the species as a whole, is it loaded with toxic chemicals and heavy metals, or worse, is it farmed, ranched, or improperly handled ? What about your delicious sea prawns being dredged off the ocean floor destroying the ocean floor in the process on top of countless other little creatures getting caught in the path that we don’t even eat, or was it pot trapped, limiting damage to environment and other species? Was that cow you just ingested raised in a feed lot on a toxic diet of hormones, antibiotics, and grain or was it free range, processed locally, from a heritage breed, tame, and untainted? Was it cared for when it was sick? Was your pork raised in a sterile environment, pumped full of antibiotics, fed an improper diet, and slaughtered wholesale with no regard for the pig’s ultimate sacrifice, or was it allowed to run free, graze on grass and healthy foods, from a heritage breed, and honored for it’s sacrifice from the moment it was born? Don’t even get me started on chickens and eggs, and you know this dark turn is also headed straight for your milk sources too. Worse yet, all this crap you’re putting in your body is shipped from who knows where wasting fuel resources, and is wrapped carefully in plastic which bombards us with toxic chemicals as well. I encourage you to, if you’re going to eat meat, understand that something died so you could eat it. There is no reason to cause this noble creature giving the ultimate sacrifice any additional undue pain just so we can eat cheap (and flavorless!!) generic meat.

Sure, you think that I’m going to stop at the animals, when this is just the tip of the iceberg when you start to consider what’s going on with out vegetable side of the food supply. Monsanto has created a shit ton of strange genes to enter into the vegetable world. The worst one (in my opinion, this one trumps the cross species gene splicing) is the “kill gene”. This prevents man’s first start into what we now consider the civilized world, agriculture. The kill gene stops an F1 generation from ever being produced. A plant will create seeds, but they will never germinate, and you will have no future crops. From a corporation’s standpoint, this is good for business because a farmer would always have to buy new seeds from the company. From a societal standpoint, this spells death to our food supply. Are your veggies really organic, and do you realize USDA organic certification allows over 140 chemicals to be used on your “organic” veggies? Did you know co-op farmers can grow GMO crops for “organic” processed food? If that’s not bad enough, just start thinking how much fossil fuels are used in the transport of your food, organic or not.

tricolor carrots... they taste best right from the ground!

tricolor carrots... they taste best right from the ground!

What I’m trying to get at is your food. I want to slap the plate out of your hand, and scold you for not knowing where and what you are really eating. I’m not here to toot my own horn, as living on a budget is a bitch, and even I still slip up now and then and get mass produced butter. I will be busy this year sourcing as much of my food as possible from local farms, and I intend to take my new friend with me to pick up my staples: meet my Motobecane Cafe 24 spd. If you see my chubby butt peddling around Whatcom county (Samish too, if I’m feeling frisky enough to bike 60 miles in a day!), please don’t honk, I’ll freak out and fall off.

motobecane cafe 24sp

Motobecane Cafe, my new best friend

masquerade style bunny rabbit mask

handmade by yours truly!

As a fashionista, I always pride myself in showing up late, fashionably, of course. Dressed to the nines, featuring a BCBG wool dress with a  tail pinned to it, a handmade mask, bunny shoes, and my favorite thigh high leg warmers, I was a toasty addition to the party of everything from a stewardess, Lady GaGa, Snow White, and cross dressing men, showing exactly how terrible Uni boob really is, and some poor boy attached to a horse costume. Entering the party on the later side, I missed my usual carousing with the drunken boys I am familiar with, and found myself engulfed by family and friends that were neither my friends or my family. Needless to say, feeling out of place, considering I only knew a few of the people, and all of them not well, I was immediately glommed onto by what I would consider the most slimy of gentlemen, and I am using that term lightly. This particular gentleman struck me so much as a car sales person, I couldn’t help but wonder if that was his costume, considering he was wearing a just ill fitting suit and tie. Since I had no romantic inclinations, I tried to dodge him the rest of the evening, but everywhere I turned, bam. There he was in my grill. At the end of the evening for me, this poor gentleman makes the worst mistake ever: has one of his girlfriends approach me for my number. So unclassy it hurts. At this point, I am irritated, not in the slightest bit tipsy, and very grateful I live just two blocks away. I bid adieu to  my hosts, and wish her family and friends a safe Halloween, and headed for the door. Bam. Again. Now the bastard wants to try to guilt me out of my number by asking well, how am I supposed to see you again? I simply said chance. If it is meant to be, we will see each other again. But since I have control over the situation, it won’t be anytime soon or intentional. I felt rude, and flushed from saying something so heinous to someone else, but I felt the colder I was about it, the less likely he’ll keep up the efforts to win me over. Fortunately, it worked this time. The poor dear went off with his tail between his legs.

To make the hook up scene worse, the hostess’ husband kept on trying to tell me how much more wonderful my life would be with a man in my life. Being at the moment a devout singleton, I had to give the “oh, brother, how confused are you” look to the guy, and tried one last time to explain that if you are lonely because you have no one to “share your life with” typically means you live an unfulfilling life not worth sharing with anyone. Managing to fail to penetrate his alcohol laden skull, he tries to hook me up with two of his brothers, neither one catching my interest. After all this, I decide it is high time to leave.

So all in all, my Halloween was hi jacked by a not so great party highlighted by crappy costumes, girls complaining about how poorly their shoes fit (suckers, i tell them where to get good shoes, and they try to defend Nine West. Nine West has terrible shoes, really.), nasty looking desserts and snacks (kitty litter cake, with brownie poo. not the best to look at, and a culinary shamble), terribly behaved men, and some really awesome decorations. The hostess was fabulous too. Next year, it’s off to wherever the most people flock to… no more house parties with strangers with candy.

my fuzzy little friends

my fuzzy little friends

doesn’t mean you need to add hideous shoes to your shoe collection. I do tend to wander into the shallower end of the pool, and here is a classic example. But seriously ladies, who can resist wearing these instead of your average run of the mill slippers? Why not add a little something extra called style to your everyday actions?

I am not the most stylish person, until you meet my shoes. I wear heels whenever possible, regardless of the situation at hand. Don’t get me wrong, I am not about to don heels to go hiking, but at my work  you may just come home covered in fish slime, blood, and my favorite, random gut bits that have strayed off the table. There you will still find me in heels or classy boots, even possibly a skirt. To all my dissenters that insist I am uncomfortable, or that heels make your breasts sag (untrue, it’s terrible posture that aids in the sagging, sit up straight ladies, shoulders back!!), get your ugly “comfortable” shoes the hell out of my way as I stroll by in stilettos… in comfort. Why? Because I took the time to try on dozens of shoes to find the right pair for my feet.

So here is my dedication to comfy shoes. My darling BC bunny slippers that take the cake. You are welcome to shove your crocs up your ass, as I don’t appreciate them crammed down my throat.

Alright, really, don’t. It would really hurt to have a world size bite taken out of my hide. Some days I am just not sure whether I am coming or going, but I am sure anyone who is actually so bored with their own lives to read this pathetic exploration into the bloggosphere might not be able to sort it out any better. So hello out there, get ready for a mix of sarcasm, whimsy, and some not so hilarious moments. I don’t know how often I will update this, or even if this little project lasts more than a fleeting month.