Operation: Feed the Family, Save the Planet, and Don't Go Broke

Garlic Scapes

It’s time to devise a plan.   There are now 3½ weeks until the first farmers' market of the season opens (but who's counting?).  We've got some down time; might as well use it wisely.

The farmers' markets in Green Country are only open from April to October, and the rest of the year we have to fend for ourselves.  Well, that is, if you depend wholly on the farmers' markets.  There are other ways.  And, if you're not a farmer yourself, and you want to get as close to the source of your food as you can, it's good to know what your resources are.  

Let's start here—where to find pure, unadulterated local food from the people who grow/raise/prepare it for you.  The aforementioned farmers' markets are, of course, the simplest way to go.  There you'll find produce (of course), meat, dairy, prepared foods (like baked goods and spice blends), along with various and sundry other items like ultra-local honey and hand-made non-food items (you know, soaps and candles and pottery and hand-spun llama wool—that kind of stuff).  Last year there was even a stand at the Cherry Street Farmers' Market selling all-natural snow cones in all kinds of fascinating flavors.  BUT, the earliest market (which does appear to be Cherry Street, incidentally) doesn't start until April 9th this year.  Today is March 15th.  So... what to do in the mean time?  

First of all, there's the: 

Tulsa Clean Food Market 

I just recently discovered this.  It seems to have been created to fill the off-season gap for local foods.  Here, you'll find many of the same farmers and producers that are at Green Country's farmers' markets.  Their last pickup date for the month, and for the season (looks like they shut down when the traditional farmers' markets open up in April) is March 26th, so hurry and get your order in!

Next, something I haven't tried, but strongly considered and see no reason why you shouldn't:

The Oklahoma Food Cooperative

This is the largest coop in Oklahoma, carrying ONLY products grown/raised/produced in Oklahoma.  

Now, I realize I'm a little late here for the March delivery, and you do have to pay a one-time fee to join the coop, but it really does look like it would be worth it.  Here we are, in the middle of March, with nary a vegetable in sight, and, besides the vast selection of meat, dairy, and other products, I found lettuce, kale, spinach, collards, turnips, green onions, radishes, mushrooms of all kinds, baby leeks, and baby raab.  I don't really know what raab is, but we'll find out soon enough.  (That one's slated for the WTF page.)

As a side note, it looks like you can get Oklahoma grown flour here--but only wheat.  If you're looking for gluten-free flour, you might have to make your own or buy it from a store like Whole Foods or Reasors.  We'll keep our eye out, though.  You never know what you might find when hunting local treasure.

Another way to seek out your local growers are these two nifty little websites:

The Eat Well Guide

and

Local Harvest

On each of these sites you can put in your zip code or city and pull up growers, producers, etc. in your area.  I've used both sites and have gotten different results from each, so it's good to check both if you want to know who's growing, raising, and selling what around here.  You may find a nearby farmer that has a farm stand or store, but doesn't necessarily go to the farmers’ markets--they may have just what you're looking for.  

Now for the not going broke part.  

It is a bald fact that--dollar for dollar--real, unprocessed, clean (i.e., raised without pesticides or herbicides and not genetically modified) food from a farm near you costs more than the conventional stuff you can get at the grocery store.  It also costs less to buy a 99 cent hot dog at your local Stop ‘N Shop than it does to buy the ingredients to make a fresh salad, but this is the kind of disparity we’re working with--quality versus quantity, health versus convenience.  And, you know what?  I'm not a rich woman.  Not even close.  I live paycheck to paycheck, trying to juggle a budget and stay afloat like most people in this economy.  But, call me crazy, I think feeding my family sustainably-produced food is vitally important.

First of all, I believe that eating good, local food makes us healthier and that, by skipping the poison and the processed made-with-ingredients-I-can't-pronounce “convenience foods,” we save extra trips to the doctor, which saves hundreds and possibly thousands of dollars over time.  Second, I believe that buying food that is made or grown close to home makes for a healthier environment.  Buying local contributes to my community, which makes for healthier, happier, more productive people; it motivates me and makes the world feel brighter, safer, and more inspiring.  I see something good happening here, something worthwhile.  This as a way to pick up our local economy and help people live their dreams, know their land, and feel a sense of connection with each other.  Eating with the seasons (that is, with your season, wherever you are) and taking advantage of the food that's grown and raised sustainably where you live does so much good on so many levels that it is simply worth more than conventional food from far away.  The current corporate food system brings us cheap food that is highly processed or farmed, one crop at a time, over thousands of acres of land which is stripped of its nutrients and artificially controlled to give higher, yet arguably less nutritious, yields.  

I’d like to see what happens when we, the people, do it ourselves.

Here are the elements of my current eat-mindfully-don't-go-broke strategy.  There are only three (so far), but I think they cover a lot of ground:

1. Make as much food “from scratch” as possible.  I'm willing to bet I can make organic potato chips (for example) cheaper than I can buy them prepackaged from Whole Foods.  And potentially even cheaper than a bag of Lay’s or Ruffles.   

2. Eat lower on the food chain more often.  I'm not vegetarian and have no plans to be, but I do believe that meat doesn't have to be eaten at every meal, and besides, it's expensive!  So, by cutting down on how often we eat like carnivores, and how much meat is incorporated in a meal when we do, we save money to put toward more vegetables and staple items.

3. Grow your own.  Nothing is more local, more fresh, or more cost-effective than food you grow yourself.  I know not everyone has a yard in which to plant a garden.  But, even in an apartment, there are ways you can grow some of your own food.  There is much information out there about container gardening and urban farming.  You can get involved with a community garden.  There are ways, if you’re determined and willing to get a little creative.

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Making it Through March

It's the beginning of March and the farmers’ markets don't open here in Green Country for another month. For now, I'm eking by like the rest of the local-food hopefuls (I would so love to call myself a true locavore, but I'm afraid some brave soldier who doesn't eat anything grown, raised, or produced more than 100 miles from their home would smite me because I'm not local enough...yet), eating last summer's frozen green beans (and they still taste better than anything I can get from the Jolly Green Giant), trying-trying-trying to vote with my food dollars at the grocery store as much as my income will allow, and, in the end, still buying more feedlot meat and processed food than I want to think about.  

Porky Truck

I started really focusing on local and organic last spring, after finally beginning to grasp the global travesty I had been buying into all these years.  I learned a lot.  I went to farmers’ markets regularly, buying everything from fresh produce to local beef and eggs, and I even tried to buy extra to save for winter.  I froze a lot of stuff (thanks to Terri graciously sharing space in her extra freezer with me), though not enough to completely get us by.  I haven't yet learned the fine arts of canning and drying and I just didn't have the budget (or freezer space) to buy up the meat we'd need ahead of time.  There's this guy in Sand Springs who sells grass-finished beef (yes, that's what I said, grass-finished!  Not sure what that means or why it matters?  That's a topic for another post...), and pork that roams freely for the length of its happy little life.  That's who I want to order from.  But, like all things in the really real world, it's not so simple as calling him up and ordering a few pounds of ground round.  No, you have to order it by the cow – whole, half, or even quarter (practically unheard of – I've  been told most operations like this won't sell the meat for less than half a cow), and it has to be ordered at certain times of year, so he knows how much he'll need to raise.  As you can imagine, buying that much meat at once is a little bit of a hit to the pocketbook, if you're not budgeting for it ahead of time.  Which...of course...I've not yet managed to do.

I'm frustrated—with myself and with “the system.”  This shouldn't be so hard.  Because it's so basic.  I want the food I eat and feed my family to be regular, natural, untampered-with food.  And I want most of it to come from close to home...at least, what, within the state?  Not the highest “locavore” ideal, but man, it's gotta' be better than getting all my organics shipped from California or another country, right?  And I know that buying “gourmet” food from local artisans can be quite pricey (please don't any of my local bakers shoot me, but it's around $6 for a loaf of bread to get it made here in town.  I just...I want to, but I can rarely afford to go that route).  However, I'm not looking for gourmet.  I'm just looking for stuff I can learn to prepare on my own—everyday fare.  I'm looking for produce that hasn't been sprayed with poison and meat that was raised the way it was always raised before the 1950s—out in the open, grazing on grass or pecking in the barnyard, and having no neurotic urges to bite off its neighbor's tail or have to be dragged by several grown men to slaughter because it's too sick to walk or stand on its own.  Really, who would want to eat that?  

 So this year, as I ponder what to do with those three quarts of frozen okra I optimistically bought last year and thought for sure I'd have used up by now (Terri? Any ideas?), I vow, timidly and hopefully, to myself, to do better—to keep track of my findings (for my own information and for yours, dear friends), to learn how to do more for myself and not to rely so much on the packaged-food industry, to find a way to beat this beast... one local vegetable and informed choice at a time.  

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