On Friday mornings I head down the road a few blocks to pick up an earthy treasure: my small box of farm fresh produce. I subscribe to a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) because I love getting seasonal bounty grown by local farmers. The fruits and vegetables in the farm box are not exotic or unique–it’s often kale, potatoes, apples, oranges, onions, carrots, spinach, and so forth, but they have character.
Take the carrots, for example. They are dainty and so freshly harvested that their long squiggly roots flare in all directions, gaping at the open air. Their lumpy bodies are etched with dirt. Their feathery green tops are thick and flashy. They are sweet inside and out. Most are shades of orange, but sometimes I’m surprised with a purple or yellow variety. Farm box apples are also a treat. Their skin lacks the sexy shine of a supermarket apple, but I’ve discovered that the matte, lightly freckled surface indicates an undiluted taste so zingy and clear it makes my head spin. I once found a tiny green baby caterpillar hiding in the loot and I’ve no doubt the farm box made a perfect heaven.
These organic fruits and veggies have less fortunate relatives sold at the grocery store (chemically treated, bioengineered versions) with muted flavors and a uniformity of shape and color just as creepy as a bunch of identical, shiny humans. If you can buy organic, please do. And if you’re unsure how to cook your wholesome foods, read Tamar Adler’s An Everlasting Meal: Cooking with Economy and Grace. In fact, read it no matter your disposition.
It’s not a cookbook or a diet fad or a foodie trend; it’s a book I recommend to everyone because it explains how to eat on normal, real-life days, which are the dreadfully overlooked majority. You arrive home tired after work on a Tuesday and your still, barren kitchen has a quarter loaf of near-stale bread, a couple of eggs, and the tail end of a jar of olives. The desolate sentiment is, “There is nothing to eat,” but I promise you, after reading Adler’s book you will whip up a simple, tasty dish worth Instagramming. You’ll enjoy the meal and feel extra clever for transforming such modest parts into a servable whole.
If I ever meet Adler, I will thank her for candidly acknowledging how frigid and unwelcoming it is to bite into the raw, squeaky broccoli. It’s the very last thing I want to eat, especially when it’s cold outside. The well-intentioned broccoli used to arrive in my kitchen stern, touting nutrition, and I was never anxious to serve it. Eating it felt more like responsibility than relish, always over or undercooked. An Everlasting Meal explains how to do it justice. Without the know-how, it’s like sending a beautiful starlet down the red carpet in pajamas with bedhead. There are simple ways to prepare and serve the broccoli so it shines. You’ll be excited that something basic and healthy can taste delicious—even divine—on its own. Adler delves into several foods in much the same way. I’m more familiar with the genuine character of produce and meats and the most effective ways to coax them into friendliness. I even boil pasta differently now. No joke.
Weaved throughout the pages are what I would call staple recipes—basic preparations and methods for daily use. It’s like learning to drive your dad’s car at age sixteen. You’re quite familiar with the vehicle, but the hands-on experience takes some getting used to. Once you’ve got it, you can figure out how to drive most cars, or at least get them to scoot along a bit. Same thing here–a familiarity with the basics means you have the confidence to confront the formerly unapproachable whole chicken or foreign root vegetable without fear. I learned how to balance dishes: lightening heavy foods with acidity, anchoring creaminess with sturdy crunch. Balance elevates meals tremendously. Vinegar, olive oil, herbs, and parmesan are invaluable. They impart a dignity and polish to otherwise average meals.
Adler explains how to use leftovers and preserve foods so nothing is wasted. The mileage you can get out of one dinner’s remains is shocking. The skimpiest budget is more than adequate. I thought I knew how to eat, but this book shed glorious light on my cave. As if this weren’t enough, the writing is superb. Even if you stubbornly oppose stepping foot in a kitchen, An Everlasting Meal is worth reading for the exemplary writing. Inspired by M.F.K. Fisher, Adler channels her brilliance while speaking to real-life people in real-life kitchens. If you read it, let me know if you agree.
amble & stray 