Affordable Food

More and more often, as I talk with friends, family members, and even the part of my brain that tabulates my running expenses, the question comes up: Is eating well worth the cost?

Three years ago, Michael Pollan penned an excellent essay about this very topic, assauging, for the most part, my guilt and fears about overspending on quality ingredients.

Then another essay, written by Pete Wells and published in the NYT on June 14, caused me to rethink a bit.

Wrote Wells: "Until recently, whenever we went to the farmers' market, we would lug home $50 pork roasts and $14 gallons of milk. We would spend over $100 on food that might not last more than three days. Sometimes we'd shop on Saturday morning and have nothing to make for dinner on Monday. I shrugged this off as one of those oddities of New York life, like getting a ticket because your neighbor put out his trash on the wrong day. But the $35 chicken made me reconsider. Buying sustainably raised beef and sustainably squeezed milk and sustainably hatched poultry is a way of life that, these days, I just can't sustain."

I had my own wake-up call back in late April, when a large bulk of my freelance work unexpectedly dried up. After I cancelled all but my basic cable services, cut back my cell phone minutes, and struck all other non-necessities from my monthly budget, I was still broke. Luckily, within a few weeks, more work had rolled in, but I was still scared.

My mama was in town soon after, and she accompanied me on a trip to the grocery store. She shamed me into forgoing name-brand sugar (I buy about a pound a year, for baking) for the store brand, which cost about half as much, but, overall, I think she was impressed with my shopping skills.

Is sustainable eating also financially sustainable for someone in my income bracket? Considering I don't have traditional health insurance, I think it's ultimately worth the cost. Fortunately, coupons have saved me about 10 percent off every shopping total I've ran up in the last three months.

I now brandish a Kroger card, which, in addition to collecting my information for Big Brother, nets me some great deals and bona fide freebies, in the form of monthly coupons they send in the mail. It might not be glamorous, but today, I scored $1 off a 4-pack of organic butter, $1 off organic cheese, $1 off organic eggs, and bought several cans of Bush's northern beans (the foundation of my favorite quick summer salad) for half price.

I also spent an hour in front of the computer, brainstorming about the luxury brands I can't seem to live without (Kashi cereal, Contadina tomato paste, Mrs. Meyer's cleaning products, Horizon dairy products, etc), and googling their websites to look for coupons or sign up for special deals. Within a week, Kashi mailed me two coupons for free boxes of cereal (that's $10 in savings). Sure, these companies now have my personal info to plug into their demographic models, but I get something out of the deal too.

Next, I signed up for emails from Whole Foods (or, as many of my friends call it, Whole Paycheck) and Fresh Market, which means more coupons and sales circulars that come my way.

Today, after my run through Kroger (all in all, I paid $84 for $112 worth of groceries, including replacement refrigerator staples from the storm last month and tons of fresh fruit), I ran into Whole Foods to stock up on my favorite cheeses (admittedly, never on sale) and to redeem a coupon I'd gotten on a postcard for a free bag of store-brand chips. When I checked out, an employee handed me another coupon for a free rotisserie chicken and a free 56-oz tub of ice cream, redeemable later on this month. The trick is, of course, not loading up on the expensive junk when you're running in for a freebie.

I still get the Sunday newspaper, and I always scan the coupon section for deals (last week, I scored $1 off Terra sweet potato chips), but I have better luck picking up info from bloggers like Affluent Pauper and Coupon Geek. From them, I learned about Mambo Sprouts, which offers all kinds of healthy/natural food coupons. Now, grocery shopping is like playing a game called "Beat the Cash Register." Sometimes, I walk in with coupons that, once I see the item, don't seem to be such a good deal. In that case, I carefully tuck the coupon next to the product, so that someone else can use it.

Even better, of course, is growing the food myself. I have tons of herbs, tomatoes, and jalapenos coming in, but haven't bothered with many other crops this year, mainly because of the CSA basket I get every week. I also make 98 percent of my meals from scratch -- including pizza crusts and loaves of bread.

I'm curious about your shopping tips. Anybody got any advice or questions on finding high quality food that's more affordable?

Please note: This week's dinner will be at the home of Robert Gordon and Tara McAdams. Same day, same time, just a different house. Drop me a line for their address. Sue Easley is organizing a trip to Jackson, TN for the UT Summer Celebration Lawn and Garden Show, which is also on Thursday. Go here for more info.

I Never Said I Was A Pioneer

Given a choice, I'll always gravitate towards comfortable living. Sure, I'll go camping, or happily spend several hours working outdoors. If push came to shove, I think I could do without central air conditioning, if I've got a cold drink and a fan to keep the circulation going. But if you want to find my Achilles heel, strip my 98-year old home of its electricity, crank the heat up into the upper 90s, and disconnect me from the world for a few days.

Friday afternoon, a storm hit our town, knocking down trees, felling power lines, and setting the tornado sirens to full-volume wail. Many OSOME contributors lost their electricity. A live wire was knocked loose on my street, and I was 100 percent unprepared -- my kitchen sink was still filled with dirty dishes from Thursday's OSOME meal, and the washing machine was halted mid-cycle, while loaded with cloth napkins and sheets and towels from the house guests I had earlier in the week. Although I'm the daughter of an airplane pilot who lived by the meteorologist's word, I'd missed the last three days of weather forecasts, and, when Elvis Redux blew in, I was in my car on Union Ave. trying to run errands. I came home, assessed the situation, and initially decided to keep the windows closed and the refrigerator full, with hopes that I'd get back onto the grid within a few hours.

By Saturday afternoon, I decided to open the 4 windows that aren't painted shut and eat the OSOME leftovers I'd set aside for my mama, who was due in on a plane later that night. I downed a half-pint of Marshall's zingy borscht, sampled a bowl of Tara's radish salsa, and finished the last few spoonfuls of aioli I'd whipped up two days earlier. Tara came by and picked up the steaks, milk, butter, cheese and Gulf Coast shrimp that were defrosting in my fridge. I crammed my Downing Hollow CSA -- bag and all -- into an ice-filled cooler, and everything else went into the garbage. I ran to the airport, and then Cassius, my mama and I settled into Red Roof Inn for the night.

Sunday, we optimistically checked out of the motel room and went to Cafe 1912 for brunch. At 7PM we went to a movie, then came home to a hot house and tried to go to sleep, because I had Sewing School to teach at Grace-St. Luke's this week.

After camp on Monday, we downed ice coffees and sandwiches from Cafe Republic. Drove home holding our collective breath, then let out disappointed sighs when we realized it was still hot, hot, hot, and decamped to Scott and Kerri's for a brief respite. Another storm blew through, and I raced home to open the windows and get the cool air inside.

Today, with Justin in tow, I went into Fino's Italian Grocery for an Aquisto sandwich on a baguette. Came home and it was still hot. I know I'm not the only Memphian dealing with this -- there were nearly 200,000 of us at first count -- but geez, the monotony of it is stressing me out. As I've been saying, If I wanted to deal with the impending threat of natural disasters,coupled with the ineptitude of an ineffectual bureaucracy, I'd have moved to New Orleans eons ago.

Somehow, I weathered (pun intended) 14 days without power in 2003, when a progressive derecho called Hurricane Elvis took a similar route through town. That time around, I made do by grilling with friends, lingering at the ice machines strategically located across the bridge in West Memphis, Ark., and drinking like a fish.

This time is different.

Five days without power, and, as certain friends can attest, I've been reduced to a sniveling mess. Although the Memphis Light, Gas & Water trucks zip by every few hours now, the power lines are still dangling across my sidewalk, and my refrigerator is still bare, its freezer door hanging forlornly open so that the fresh box of baking soda can do its work. What was once a magical cold cabinet chock full of beer, cheese, and other tasty treats is now a sterile. empty box. Sure, my pantry is heavily laden, but who -- other than Justin -- wants to cook in stifling temps?

I am trying to count my blessings.

In the grand scheme of things, I got off lightly: I have a kitchen that was uncrushed by tree limbs. I was fortunate that I had food to jettison, and food I was able to save, even though Tara's power went out a day after mine. I have friends who have offered shelter, and friends who have shared their food. I had to junk most of last week's CSA, but I was able to save a few beets and green onions, which I'll add to a salad as soon as I can make a meal at home without sweating.

When MLGW powers me back up, I'll simply turn on the washing machine, and take a few grocery expeditions to replenish the fridge shelves. I'm grateful that I don't have to yoke up a team of oxen and traverse a mountain range to do so, or make like the characters in Cormac McCarthy's "The Road," and trek through the aftermath of WWIII. To paraphrase Scarlett O'Hara, "As God is my witness, I'll never take electricity for granted again."

And, please note: If you're planning to come to this week's OSOME dinner, it will be held at Lorette and Alex Greene's house, which is in the U of M area. Call me for the address. It's gonna be a great night -- Lorette plans to set up dinner tables in the fields out back, where her team of urbagrarians have been planting tomatoes, lettuces, squashes, and herbs. Next week, we should be back in my backyard.

Family And Friends, Close To Home And Far Away

Here's one more glance at last week's meal -- a plateful of early June veggies! Dinner last week was just spectacular. Six days later, and I am still basking in the warmth that comes from hanging out with friends, old, new, tight and loose-knit. I love my family, but don't get to see any of them often enough -- hence my "Memphis family." And aren't we a creative bunch? I think there were two teachers, four writers, five musicians, and four or five artists (with plenty of cross-pollination) at our last OSOME meal.

I also love that the rhubarb in Amy's wonderful tart was grown by her sister in Seattle, and mailed cross-country. And that my friend Lorette -- with plenty of help from Sue, Lori Aime, Tara, Libby, et al -- is growing most of the veggies I'm eating this summer. And that recipes come with stories attached, family lore that is as integral as the teaspoons of herbs and a warm oven.

Since last Thursday, I've had two bands crash land at the Landis Street house -- Saturday night, old friends the Goodnight Loving spent the night along with their dog Jerry (he and Cassius made fast friends).

And Tuesday, the New Zealand group Bachelorette, who played at Minglewood Hall with Bonnie Prince Billy, stayed over. A Portlander, an Australian, and three NZers in this tiny house -- we were connected through a former Memphian who works for Drag City, but, as it so often turns out, we discovered we had about 10 random friends in common, connecting us from halfway around the world. It's always so wonderful to discover friends in faraway places -- and good to know that, should I ever make it to NZ, I'll have plenty of free places to stay! Anyways, the NZers kept cracking me up, because they pronounced "awesome" as "osome." I took 'em to Dejavu for a Creole soul food lunch, and when they all declared the food as "osome," I had to laugh and explain that while former Louisianan Gary Williams is my favorite chef in town, they'd have to stick around 'til Thursday to get a truly OSOME meal.

Third Wednesday

After the wealth of mosquito bites I got last weekend, I was thrilled that I was able to get the grass cut a few hours before this week's dinner. Then Cassius decided to make it snow -- he took a down-filled pillow off the couch and took it to the back yard, then went nuts. Geese feathers everywhere, thousands of 'em, flying onto the patio, into the holes he'd already dug, and all over the grass. I spent a good hour raking and scooping, but the problem just wasn't going away. Then, at 6 p.m., the rains came, matting down the feathers, and soaking the patio furniture...

Fortunately, we had a smallish crowd for supper -- 9 adults and 4 almost-teens, who preferred the glow of the TV set to our company.

We had so many beautiful local ingredients: shitake mushrooms in nearly every dish, plus potatoes, herbs, tomatoes, and lettuces.

Justin and Amy went all-out, making yummy sausages out of potatoes, wheat gluten and mushrooms, then tucking them into whole wheat hot dog buns with a dab of sauerkraut. Tara made a beautiful green bean dish, topped with bread crumbs. Lori and Tim brought over a delicious cold pasta salad chock-full of tomatoes and herbs. Sue tossed together salad greens and a wonderful homemade blue cheese dressing. Lori, the farmer in our group, came armed with the CSA I didn't have time to pick up, as well as a bouquet of gorgeous sunflowers. I got together a pizza crust just in time, and made 2 pizzas topped with sauteed shitakes, just-picked herbs and feta cheese. And Kerri brought over Pancho's Cheese Dip and a big bottle of Prichard's Rum. Sure, she thought outside of the box, but she adhered to the local theory nonetheless -- and the Pancho's dip was the hit of the night!

Paul and Angela came by too, although they couldn't hang around for supper. But they did bring some good news and enough eggs from their backyard chicken coop for everyone to take a half-dozen home. (I borrowed the photo above from their blog, although the eggs in that shot were eaten long ago.)

Thank you, everyone, for such great food and company.

And don't forget that as of June 4, we're switching to Thursday nights. See you next week!

Second Wednesday

Well, I failed to remember to take any photos last week -- until after the dishwasher was loaded. Oops. If you were here, you know what a great meal we shared, and just how beautiful it all looked. If you missed it, well, you know to try to make it here soon.

Local components: Potatoes, greens, shitake mushrooms, eggs, strawberries, milk, and herbs galore. We were initially worried that we'd be eating nothing but salad this early in the season, but so far, we've had plenty of variety in our meal.

Justin has already blogged about his frittata, a fantastic so-called pinch hitter after his pizza crust debacle. Tara and Esther made an incredibly delicate asparagus and mushroom phyllo tart, using shitakes from Lorette Greene's mushroom block. John brought a caprese salad laid out on a beautiful platter and topped with just-grown basil leaves. Melissa and James showed up with a gorgeous bowl of vegetarian stir-fry with fresh, local kale. Sue, Henry and Doug came with a bowl of the best guacamole I've ever had, using Lorette's cilantro for extra flavor. Alan had a loaf of bread, freshly baked in Arkansas. I made my first ice cream of the season, combining strawberries from Lorette's CSA and Jones Orchard with Mennonite milk purchased at Easy Way.

There was plenty of food to go around, and I discovered that one of the best parts of hosting these weekly gatherings is the leftovers I get to enjoy the next day. Nothing like a cold slice of frittata followed by a forkful of mushroom tart. Mmm...

One more thing to mention: Lorette and Hattie brought a beautiful bouquet of flowers from Whitton Farms in a mason jar that looked perfect on the table. I had to toss most of 'em into the compost heap today, but I still have this stem to enjoy. None of the blooms in my own garden are ready to cut yet -- I have marigolds, phlox, a few leftover Lenten roses, and Sweet William going strong, but I prefer to leave those blossoms on the plants. Soon enough, I'll have flowers galore. What's getting ready to bloom in your garden? Anyone here have luck with Lady's Mantle? I had a nice chat with my friend Chanda this weekend, and she's got it in her Pacific NW beds, but I think it's too dry in the summer to grow it here...

How It All Began

Last March, I sent this email to about 20 friends:

okay, folks, I know that summer seems like it's still a long way off, but I wanted to get out this email sooner rather than later -- and I know that a lot of my gardening friends are planning their crops now.

I have a proposal to make -- a weekly potluck meal that involves local ingredients.

right now, I'm calling the concept "our summer of magical eating" -- hopefully Joan Didion doesn't decide to sue me!

here's the scoop: we each make a dish using a locally grown item as the star ingredient. it could be something you've grown, picked, received as part of a CSA, or bought at a local farmers market or produce stand. make enough for every member of your family, x 4 (i.e., if you're a couple, you'd probably just double your recipe). find a recipe in a book or a magazine, or create your own. it could be something as simple as mozzarella, heirloom tomatoes and fresh basil, or as complex as a cocktail using local fruit.

bring your dish over to my house, along with a serving utensil and the beverage you'll be drinking, every wednesday at 7 p.m., and we'll have a potluck dinner.

I plan to serve dinner in my backyard every wednesday, from may through august (or elsewhere if anyone wants to take a turn hosting it). no RSVPs, no need to divvy up courses. kids are welcome. maybe some weeks, 20 folks will show up; maybe just 4 diners another week. there are vegetarians among us, but since we're talking summer bounty, I figure much of the fare will be vegetarian friendly. I also have a charcoal grill if anyone wants to do some cooking over here (hello, Neola beef eaters!).

a huge component of this will be a blog I'm setting up so that everyone who participates in the potluck series can post their recipes, discuss their gardens, swap crops, etc.

if you have any ideas, let me know. I'd like this to be a fairly organic, low-key production that sates our appetites, our social lives, and our budgets.