Hot Shots- Ursula and her camera show you what's beautiful this week- Watermelon and White Corn

Dear Ones,

It’s been pitter pattering outside, raining like Spring when Spring tells you to sit inside and read with a hot cuppa tea.  I went out for a walk in the rain last night and came home with guerilla rhubarb enough to bake with!  Once back inside and in a new warm and dry pair of long johns I looked up from chopping to see my brother springing up the stairs taking them four at a time.  Jasper usually comes into my house like a hurricane.  He looks in the fridge, we laugh about something, he plays guitar, we laugh, he looks in the fridge, laughter, then he goes.  Our visits are usually about seven or eight minutes.  Max.   “What’s this,” he asked last night, popping a cookie into his mouth before saying hello.  I looked at him a moment.  I smiled.  He chewed.  And he chewed and he chewed and he chewed, looking more and more upset.  “Its’a raw, vegan cookie,” I tell him. 

“Is it supposed to taste like that?”

“Like what?” I asked, still smiling, just slightly.

“I don’t know.  Like dry and not sweet, I guess?  Like that.  Is it supposed to taste like that?”  My brother and I grew up in a house that had no sugar or television.  Our dad’s idea of a Caesar salad was green curly kale from the garden with a dressing of homemade yoghurt, dill and garlic.  “Cookies” were not like other people’s cookies, and bread and pasta was rolled out on our kitchen table, kneaded and tucked and rolled and baked, and made out of... spelt.  We’ve since had cookies, what kids from hippies might call ‘real’ cookies.  Ones made with butter and sugar.  They taste really good.  While we grew up with really good for you food made from scratch, ideas like eating dairy free, sugar free, gluten free and organic were not ones for which our folks had a great culinary repertoire.  

 “I’m going to make real cookies again soon.”

“Whewfff,” Jasper said, “I like those other ones a little better.  And when’s that going to be done?” pointing to the crumble I was elbow deep in.

“Hour at least,” and he was gone, taking the stairs back out four at a time. 

I’m so glad and feel so grateful to be in a world that’s discovered and is discovering that good food tastes good, too.  I feel so blessed to be a part of a movement where someone already paved the way.  I’m so glad to be stompin’ along this good food path with people like you.  I’m also glad to have found a treat my little brother doesn’t like.  It’s shaping up to be just about my favourite one. 

Broccolette from Earthbound.  This is sweet baby broccoli, long and slender and pretty special.  Super yummy in anything you’d normally throw broccoli in, just this one’s got longer more slender legs.  We’ve got about sixty more cases than feels very comfortable. 

Beautiful ataulfos from a 14 ct to a 22 ct, and these have a shelf life, for sure.  Some of them are even still a bit on the greener side. 

The following I lifted straight from the Viva Tierra Organics website: “The origin of Alexander Lucas is a bit uncertain; it is believed that friars in Western Germany discovered it. Many European apple and pear varieties came from the orchards of monasteries and convents because the friars and nuns were well educated for their day and the Church owned vast amounts of good land. Friars in monastery orchards engaged in careful observation of nature in all aspects of fruit breeding and cultivation. This lead to the development of new varieties and cultivation techniques, as well as a better understanding of the natural world. For instance, J. Mendel, an Austrian Benedictine friar, first described genetics and the basic laws of hybridization. All of the old fruit varieties (and some new ones) come from natural hybrids.  The Alexander Lucas harvest comes after the Bosc. The fruit is similar to the D’Anjou pear; however, the stem is longer and the pears tend to be larger on average. When ripe, the flesh is buttery soft, smooth and extremely juicy with a sweet delicate flavor. Alexander Lucas pears are truly a delight to eat!”

And from a truly shallow and inexperienced perspective (this is Ursula typing again), these pears are pretty lovely.  They’re round and look alike little anjous but for their big ole butts.  I think big butts are cute. 

Still flavour packed and beaming from their boxes like red morning rays across glowing sky, these little murcott tangerines are in great shape: shiny and that super charged orange colour only a small tangerine can really achieve. 

Bins o’ watermelon.  I’m not in the threatening part of this fruit’s season, so no worries.  In this email I will just show it to you, nod and say, “I agree!  It is very beautiful.”  Then I will tell you about how I chopped one up so we could try it and the smell alone took us on a journey to far parts of a loving world not in this office: gave us visions of wading in warm water, memories of looking for the smoothest stone on the longest beach.   Then I’ll say, “I think the weather is clearing up, it’s supposed to be warm and sunny all week,” and that would be true and you would buy a half a bin of watermelon and one of our lovely drivers would drop it off, wherever you wanted it, and if you wanted they would also give you a hug.  I think.  I’ll check, but I think they’d be down with that sort of thing.  If you insisted, you know. 

This pile lasted about a minute.  *poof*  We downed this melon like nobody’s business.  Watermelon is exciting. 

What with Fair Trade celebrations and support, we kinda halted movement on our Capa Organics pineapple, which is super sweet and a real treat and here by the mountain range. 

This is our cantaloupe, I cut one of the 9 counts. 

A And this is the box I robbed the melon from in front of the pallet of it that we have.  This is one of two pallets of cantaloupe we have.  That’s a lot of cantaloupe.  When I chopped the above melon it was hard to and the fruit was crispy which is a relief, we’ve got time, and so would you if you took some of it off of our sweet little hands. 

I I tried to walk by it, but I couldn’t.  This is pretty pretty bright and flowery green leaf from Pureveg.  Kale and chard might be hard to locate right now, but lettuces have certainly recovered from scary weather fluctuations.  Look.  Dontcha agree?  Sorry?  You want a half a bin of watermelon?  Done. 

This is our bunch kohlrabi, nothing short of stunning.  I love how the colour of a root shows up in the colour of its leaves. 

And corn!  This is the white corn from Heger.  It’s super nice looking, good size and from what I’ve heard it tastes pretty durn good. 

I’m off to cruise home in the rain spot checking the neighbourhood for more patches of public rhubarb.  I’m so glad that I learned to make good food out of good food and I hope that you or someone who does the cooking in your house does too.  And you know, the beautiful thing about the organic food movement these days?  It’s not just hippies who are into it.  Everyone is.  It shows.  It’s getting better.  For every moment we are told and understand that things are getting worse, let this be a bit of an antidote to that: the organic food movement only grows.  The scariest it’s done in years is slowed, and that didn’t even last long.  You’re a cog in a good machine.  You’re a good piece of a long and beautiful story. 

I feel a hundred thanks you's buzzing like bees around me.  I hope they find you ‘cause you’re who those thank you's are for.    

Big Love,

Ursula Twiss