Sunday we decided to finally do something with a few of the Delicata Squash that have been ripening in a bowl on our counter for about four weeks.  I have been extremely skeptical of how edible they’d turn out to be because they were grown way out of season, and for the last few weeks of that time they sat on plants sickened first by a massive aphid infestation (see Convergent lady killers, posted Nov. 17) and then by powdery mildew — the same pest that kept all the other out-of-season winter squash from producing and killed them (see Death by a billion spores, posted Oct. 15).

So, I harvested these squash not because they were ready, but because the plants were dead or dying.  Not a confidence builder in terms of quality.

We cut a few of them up, and they looked and smelled like squash should look and smell.  The recipe called for carrots, which we were able to pull from the yard, too.  And we threw together a salad made from greens from our garden as well as from Paul and Amy’s.  It turned out to be a flavorful and hearty soup, more so than the split pea we made a month or so ago (see A whole meal of food, posted Dec. 8).

I have never been reticent about sharing the food we grow, but since I started this calorie-counting effort, I can’t help but to — just for a second — think of the shared food as calories lost.  The thought never lasts because I enjoy giving food I’ve grown (especially when it tastes good).  In truth, the people receiving the shared food have been more hesitant in accepting, often saying, “But you could be eating this!”  Friends also counsel us to just count the calories anyway toward our 15 percent (actually, until last night my wife had no idea we weren’t doing just that).  However, what other people eat doesn’t really have anything to do with our annual calories and where they come from.  It has to do with theirs.  But if they’re eating from our yard, it’s definitely local and raised responsibly — so it should be counted in some way.  Where everyone’s food comes from and how it is grown matters.  And, sharing the food we grow is part of the community side of this effort: people getting together to grow as much of their food as they can, eat it, and share it.  Ultimately, it’s not just about what I or my wife eat.

So we’re going to count shared calories, separately, as a way to acknowledge that responsible food that gets eaten is never wasted.

This leaves the question of the other percent.  We’re shooting for 15 percent from our yard, so for us the other percent is a big 85.  What do we do about that?  The answer to this question is as important as any decision we make about what grows or how it grows on our property.  If we satisfy this big giant number of calories irresponsibly, or without the ideals that we apply to our own home growing in mind — then what’s it all about?  We could easily overshadow the global benefits of our super local effort by satisfying the rest of our calories at McDonald’s or stocking our freezer with CAFO meats from 1,000 miles away or filling our bellies with international fruits and vegetables.  And we’d be missing our own point, which is a decidedly unattractive quality in a person.

So, what do we do?  Support local farmers who share our ideals and the markets that sell their work.  And the restaurants that cook with their foods.

We’ve been enjoying a nearby farmer’s market these past few months, and we intend to make it a regular part of our week.  There is something fundamental in shopping a place where all the food’s not pretty.  In San Diego there are dozens of farmer’s markets we’ve yet to try, but want to, particularly one that we’ve heard specializes in meats in cheeses.  We’re also planning on buying into a CSA with a few friends, which will support growers and give us access to local, seasonal produce — and challenge us to cook with ingredients we’re not used to.  Each of these options eliminates costly intermediaries between food and people, in the same way that growing at home does, and requires a more thoughtful relationship with what’s being eaten, how it’s being grown, and who’s growing it.

In terms of related New Year’s resolutions, I’m resolved to do better with the foods I buy, particularly concerning their place of origin.  I’ve been doing well the past few months in buying organic produce and range-fed meats (and in making meats a side rather than a main dish), and I’ve been shopping and supporting a market that shares some of my philosophy, but I could do better with figuring out how local the food is.  Distance takes some of the responsibility out of responsibly raised.

I’m also resolved to add a little foraging to the menu.  And by a little, I mean one act of foraging.  I’m keeping my effort minimal because this is way beyond my skill level and comfort zone.  But, I’m inspired by the author of Fat of the Land, which is by far the best food blog I’ve read.  And, foraging is a pretty ecologically sound way to go in terms of consumption.  What will I forage?  I have no idea.  I guess we’ll see.

With the other percent in mind, I’ve added two widgets to the blog (see sidebar at right).  One maps out all the farmer’s markets in your area (and there are probably more than you are aware of, with different specialties; this was true for me).  The other helps you find local and responsibly raised foods at a number of different places, including restaurants.  These will be permanent additions and will hopefully help anyone who is interested find a route to better eats — a supplement to the home-raised bit of calories, no matter what percent that adds up to.

We had my folks over for dinner a few days ago.  I served up a Caesar salad with Husky cherry tomatoes from the garden, which went well alongside my wife’s excellent meat loaf and baked mac and cheese.  But my mom one-upped us with her homegrown contribution: a pie stuffed full of Anna Apples from the tree in her and my dad’s front yard.

The tree produces phenomenally well for only having been in the ground two seasons in an area of San Diego that gets no frost and about as many chill hours as you’d expect for “America’s Finest City”.  But the Anna likes heat, having originated in Israel, and doesn’t require the dose of cold that most apples do to flower and set fruit.  This season the tree nearly bent itself to the ground with hundreds of huge apples.  In the winter I’ll try my hand at grafting with a few branches from this tree.  We have two Galas that are doing better this year but aren’t nearly as fruitful.

Mom left us the pie, and I’ve been eating it all week and thinking about the community benefit of home-growing.  Civilizations of the past have always organized around the production of and exchange of food with neighbors.  It’s only recently that people have become completely detached from such sustenance networking, and, for the majority, completely lost the capability of producing their own food.  Despite this distance, we still come together around food — it’s just not food we’ve had a hand in.  Why not make it something we’ve grown and shared?  There’s a lot of potential in such exchanges, both in terms of relationship building and quality food production.  Maybe one yard’s good for squash but not for apples, one is all shade and another all sun, maybe one person has a green thumb but no yard and another space but can’t grow.  In each relationship there is potential for cooperation and food.  Figuring out such relationships involves getting to know people nearby, which is good for the neighborhood.  And, like most things, increasing the amount of homegrown food (the most local kind) is easier and more fun with friends and family.

There is a certain autonomy for a community that produces part of its own food cooperatively.  It means that for some portion of a meal people can opt out of the market or the restaurant for their food — two places that often offer little transparency in terms of how the food is made, where it comes from, and how it is grown.  Without home-growing there is little chance of changing the practices that are problematic in industrial food production, such as heavy use of chemical fertilizers and herbicides, because the industry has an ace: People have to eat.  And it is hard for people to hold accountable an industry they rely on to live.  Much like pharmaceuticals.  People are as likely to stop taking their meds as they are to stop eating.  Protesting a practice while funding it is not effective.

But it’s not all about protest gardening.  Sometimes you just get good pie.