SEASONS' EATINGS

About this time of year, every single year (along with an appreciation of the fauna and the flora), I begin to anticipate all things food. I get this anxious feeling in my gut. I’ve come to recognize this as a gastric anticipation for all the good things coming … TO EAT. When I grew up in Ohio, maybe a bit earlier in the season than it is now, my Dad took me asparagus hunting in the woods next to our farmhouse. He knew exactly what to look for, hidden in all of the freshly burst green lushness of the forest. I don’t remember all the details, but I recall being a bit damp and chilly, watching my dad knick something off the trunk of a tree with his hunting knife. I think that was asparagus. Or it could’ve been mushrooms.

We also looked for morels on these hikes. Wild asparagus and morels go together like “peas and carrots,” as Forrest Gump would say. Hunting and fishing for whatever was in season was how my Dad lived, and my uncle Al was a butcher, so I got pretty in tune with the whole process. And although I didn't think about it much at the time, I'm pretty sure I recognized the origins of the food on my plate.

Our dinners back then travelled a fairly swift journey from standing to consuming. For a while we raised cattle for slaughter. It was my older sister’s and my job to feed them. (Being licked by a cow is a sensation you don’t really forget.) That was one thing about farm life. Making friends with the animals had its consequences. We had a pig for while. It kept escaping its pen and tearing the yard up into big chunks. Then the pig disappeared. I think this is a conjured memory, or maybe enhanced, but I swear I recall one night at the dinner table asking where the pig went. (He had a name, but I can’t remember it now.) I believe my mom answered me by asking how I liked my pork chop.

Lamb also found its way onto the menu around this time every year. I always thought I STRONGLY disliked lamb until we lived in England. There I garnered a whole new category of appreciation for spring — lambing season. I discovered lamb, cooked right, melts in your mouth; a perfect companion on the plate with a side of asparagus and mushrooms.

I wish I retained ANY of what my Dad knew to look for now that I’ve come full circle into parenthood myself. I love to introduce the kids to the taste of many things that recently walked, swam and grew. As it is, at least in terms of mushrooms, I don’t trust myself to know the difference between the good picks and the poisonous ones, so I can’t pass this practice on to my kids.

One thing I can convey, though, is my constant craving for all things seasonal. I figure this must’ve come from my early years, as we learned to love whatever was placed before us; and what got plated up tended to be whatever was available. Cooking by the calendar is such a pleasure. There’s always something to look forward to, and the kids are beginning to recognize the cycles. It ranks right up there with my daughter Zoe’s habit of asking about Valentines Day right after she finishes unwrapping her last Christmas present. Or her asking me to bust out the Halloween decorations right after the last fireworks burst on the 4^th of July. Looking forward to "the next adventure" is BIG in our family.

Some of our journeys are simply continuations of our heritage. This is also the time of year my mouth begins to water at the mere thought of rhubarb; also in season (right before strawberries, which go GREAT with rhubarb!). I look for the bright red stalks in the produce section with anticipation. My Grandma and Grandpa Tommas had a huge rhubarb patch next to their house. And every year I would wait for those big stalks to turn red. You name it, we made it — rhubarb sauce over ice cream or bananas, or ice-cream with bananas; rhubarb pie; rhubarb crumble; rhubarb rhubarb. These days, though, I most often find my seasonal goodies in the super market. The farmers' markets here aren't year-round.

I seek out places where I can go and at least pick my own, wherever we happen to be, each season. We had an apple orchard growing up. Between my pony and me, we downed a few. The picking seasons, also strike a pretty deep chord. The kids and I have a lot of fun picking and eating; eating and picking. In England we plucked apples from the royal trees in the royal gardens of the royal princess, in Sandringham, where Princess Diana grew up. In Ohio, we try each year to make the strawberry season, where I've picked strawberries since I was little. (Actually, we've discovered if we're lucky, the end of strawberry season, runs into blackberry season, which then takes us into the beginning of tomato and corn seasons!) This ties my past together with my present and, hopefully, the children’s future, nicely. A thread weaved through our constantly changing fabric.

Thanks at least in part to the likes of Alice Waters and now Barbara Kingsolver (and the economy?), seed to table trends are enjoying renewed energy and effort here in the states. I read in the paper last week America’s farmers’ markets increased by 13 percent last year, and market organizers hope to see another increase this year. Regardless of the root cause, that’s good news, in my book. I’ve always wondered, as our farm fields are replaced with overgrown homes, how our children will know to protect the origins of their food, if they don’t recognize the source? (Ironically, the increase of markets in America contrasts sharply with the decline of village markets in England, which are being overtaken by the ever growing number of “American-like” super markets, like Tesco.) There are in-school seed-to-table efforts taking place across the nation, and at least a recognizable inclusion in the school curriculum here to learn more about the origins of our food. Both my daughters have watched Chicks hatch from eggs in their second-grade year. I'm not entirely sure this is supposed to be a food-related lesson, but it works for me.

I heard recently, British Chef Jamie Oliver is making an effort here to overhaul the school lunch program, much like he did in England while we were there around 2003-2004. In the end, he was able to garner the endorsement of and financial support from the government there, which resulted in more funds for fresh ingredients. It was great to witness. (Keeping in mind the population of England is around 50 million, give or take, and about the physical size of Oregon.) I hope he finds success here, as well. Just in the last week, one of my children came home with a story of a bug crawling out of her friend's cafeteria lasagna, and my son, who is in a different school, told me about a distinctly green hot dog. So for now, I pack my kids’ lunches. I hope they don’t get too much flak for bringing in rhubarb crumble …