• Posted by Califia Suntree on June 17th, 2010, 8:43 AM

    As I posted before, the tragic loss of Gulf fisheries (one-third destroyed so far, probably for years to come) means the loss of some of the most sustainable seafood we have access to. However, that means two-thirds are still open, and in serious need of customers! Remember, this is shrimp and shellfish listed as “good choices” by the Monterey Bay Aquarium’s Seafood Watch, and which is being closely inspected for any trace of oil contamination. To find out which fishes to seek out, and jumpstart your craving for Gulf seafood, check out this southern-fried slideshow on Grist.

  • Posted by Karen Dill on April 6th, 2009, 9:24 AM

    Photo by Brett Emerson

    It is in April that the wild things emerge. Bears crawl from their dens; baby wolves are born while their parents howl at the moon; and mysteriously tender green shoots climb bravely from the ground. To the inexperienced eye, the tiny plants may just look like weeds, but to my mountain-bred father, they were supper. And nothing tasted better than a mess of those wild greens cooked up over a wood stove on a chilly spring evening.

    My father would head into the woods on clear April mornings and return with all matter of strange wild plants. In the dark hollows and beside mountain streams, there were secret caches of edible plants that had no doubt sustained his family through the years of his poverty stricken childhood. He always went alone and was as secretive about the location of his wild plant beds as a fisherman is about his favorite fishing hole.   Read on… »

  • Posted by Califia Suntree on February 7th, 2009, 12:26 PM

    The weather in February is as fickle as new love. In the mountains of North Carolina, the wind can howl through the ridges like a scorned lover or the day can be as soft and gentle as a kiss. I’ve seen snow fall nonstop for a week in February and I’ve seen daffodils and crocus pop up through the snow with fresh, optimistic faces turned toward the dazzling sun.

    The Februarys of my youth are bleak in my memory. The days were short; the evenings chilly; the days raw—and all without the benefit of television or telephone to break the monotony. The longest month of the year, I thought, despite the shortest number of days.  Yet it was in this dreary month when I was 14 that I first experienced what seemed like love, or at least a serious crush. Read on… »

  • Posted by Karen Dill on November 25th, 2008, 3:58 PM

    My first memories of Thanksgiving in the Appalachian mountains of North Carolina were of simple seasonal foods spread on a rough plank table in my mother’s old home in Madison County. Located in the far west of North Carolina, bordering eastern Tennessee, Madison County used to be known as rough country (moonshiners, family feuds) though it’s now home to a plethora of organic farmers. My mother’s people, the Treadways and the Sawyers, were raw, hardworking clans with bodies long and lean and spirits naturally suspicious of outsiders. Their hands were calloused from labor and their faces weathered from days spent outdoors and worn with the constant worry of survival in the wilderness that they called home. Read on… »

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