Weather is so strange. In the East, y'all are just cleaning up after a veritable hurricane. Here in the West, after months and months of cold and rain, it's suddenly 80 degrees and gorgeous blue skies. So while my husband fetches a rose to pop tonight, I'm going to pull together an early spring menu:
I dined on a Mulefoot pork chop at Cochon restaurant in New Orleans with a rush of pleasure, anxiety, and guilt. If this hog breed is endangered, should I be enjoying it so much? I thought. But in truth, the pork is what brought me to the restaurant. By eating the endangered breed, I might be helping to save it.
The ancient Greek language had three distinct words for love. Philia, a love borne of loyalty and familiarity, would never be used to describe the passionate attraction of eros or the deep contentment of agape. I think we need to take that concept—having words that describe the intricacies of a more general term—and apply it to fat.
I’ve been gardening ‘organically’ for nearly a decade now. But up until recently, I carried a narrow definition of ‘organic’ in my head as what I wasn’t putting on my plants—no pesticides, no herbicides, no synthetic fertilizer. And while that is part of the equation, I’ve learned that organic gardening is so much more than what you don’t do; it’s about how you nurture the soil to be healthy long-term and, consequently, produce fruitful crops.