Tonight, I feasted on the fruits of my mother's hard earned labors. It's not the first time I have benefited from her largess, of course, but never has it been more welcome than when stuffing fresh produce from her garden into my facial orifice designed for just that purpose. On the menu tonight was fresh coleslaw, pea pods, new potatoes unhilled just minutes before they were popped into the boiling water, and a homemade apple pie. It was a delicious end to an exciting day of gastronomic ecstasy, and I enjoyed every culinary highlight.
The women of yesteryear were, undeniably, overworked and underpaid. Probably under-appreciated, too. But there must have been an enormous amount of satisfaction in putting a table laden with food they grew with their own hard effort in front of their families day after day after day.
My mother grew up on a farm in the midst of the depression, and they certainly didn't enjoy a lot spare morsels. But they didn't starve, either, and she certainly learned how to make food stretch. It was a handy skill, since my parents were none too well off, and she watched the budget with an eagle eye.
My parents took the self-sustaining lifestyle a little further than most people, and grew their own meat, as well. They would butcher a steer and fill the freezer with the delicious cuts of meat with nary a hormone in sight. Grass fed cattle was the only kind there was on our farm, and it wasn't a trendy lifestyle decision so much as a statement of making the most of the little we had.
I think my dad would find it pretty peculiar that you get to pay extra these days for something that was grown the old fashioned way. But the steaks and ground beef that came at the end of the hard work were flavorful and delicious, no matter how simply they were prepared, which is more than I can say for most of the expensive cuts of meat I purchase at the local supermarket today.
My dad would occasionally hunt, too, and pheasant from the freezer was an occasional treat. My mother would get out her big pressure cooker and tenderize that meat until it just melted off the bone. I had no idea it was a delicacy. I just thought it was delicious, and the more so because my dad had brought it to our table himself.
I think that the elemental nature of food back then must have given a deep feeling of satisfaction and well being to those who produced the bounty - seeing your hard work translated into the tasty dishes born to the table with pride and thanksgiving had to be very gratifying. They didn't go crazy with spices and condiments, but perhaps that was because they weren't needed. The food itself was so flavorful and succulent that all the extras simply weren't required.
I often look at the fruits and vegetables in the modern supermarket, and it's hard to get too excited about any of it. They are pretty, of course. Tomatoes are so red they almost glow. Apples are unblemished, and perfectly formed. Beans don't have brown spots and pea pods are beautifully packaged, ready to steam still in the freezer bag in which they were packaged.
As perfect as they look, however, where is the flavor to tickle your taste buds? Where is the aroma that draws you in like flies to birthday cake on a summer day? The beautiful outsides hide the emptiness within, which is a good metaphor for a lot of things besides our food these days, if you ask me.
There is something enticing about a garden full of growing vegetables, green and lush and begging to be pulled or picked or cut. There are no carrots in a hermetically sealed bag that come close to the succulent sweetness of a carrot pulled up fresh from the soil. Fresh picked cabbage has a mild flavor unknown to those who have only experienced what comes from the shelves of a supermarket far from the field in which it was grown. Pea pods are tender and delicate and filled with a delicious flavor unattainable from something pulled from the freezer.
There are many things I love about coming home, of course. Running away from my "real" life is prime among them. But I also love coming home to enjoy the bounty my mother provides from her garden, and reliving, for a brief few days, the joys of my childhood when we lived on fresh produce for dinner and supper for weeks on end.
You may not be able to go home again, but you can certainly revisit the past in your mind. And there is nothing like the smell and taste of fresh garden produce to take 40 years off my memory.
Grow a garden - save the planet. Or at least enjoy a fresh picked meal grown with your own hard effort. It's a satisfaction that passes all understanding, and if you are Lutheran, you will understand this is most certainly true!
Happy eating, and enjoy the summer bounty. And don't forget the pie!
