Pictured here: a spring day at Lindencroft Farm, one of my favorite places to visit.
Very busy here this week, but finally a napping boy and a spate of quiet to myself. I got two very lovely e-mails this week to share with you all.
The first was sent to me by a Tennessee blogger known merely as "Deliberate" (or "moredeliberate", in the e-mail address). In the form of a comment on my blog, I read these words:
Tana,
I just awarded you with a Thinking Blogger Award. You can find out what it means and why I chose your blog on my site. Thanks!
From The Thinking Blog, the rules:
The participation rules are simple:
1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think;
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme;
3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote.That was that! Please, remember to tag blogs with real merits, i.e. relative content, and above all - blogs that really get you thinking!
I had seen the award a couple of times in my mad rush to scroll through the hundreds of blog posts that I've been behind in reading in the past month. I always get a little nervous when someone holds me up in the same group as someone who is really doing the hard work—the scary hard work—of living more lightly on the earth while simultaneously having the courage to acquaint themselves with the statistics that, frankly, terrify me.
I don't do well with science. Numbers intimidate me: rigidity scares me. I think you have to be a special sort of person to want to know every single way in which this planet is really and truly f--ked, and still maintain a positive outlook. And by "positive outlook," I mean, "You don't want to stick your head in an oven right now." Because if I think about all that stuff, the futility meter would jump like The Oneders in "That Thing You do," and ladies and gentleman, we'd have a winner. Which is to say, a loser, because I really don't think I could keep going if I were deeply acquainted with how many things are hopeless.
About all I can manage is to want to focus on the things that I want
more of in the world: beauty, bounty, and love. The only maxim that I
try to live by (and which I fall short of on a daily basis) is "Add your light to the sum of light,"
which is a quote from "The Year of Living Dangerously." (Starring Mel
Gibson before he started living dangerously: like a racist Cro-Magnon stuff, that is.) Instead of indulge in fury and that kind of innocent
hatred that feels at first like a mosquito bite on your ankle, until
you scratch it and it turns to systemic poison oak—that familiar raging
fury at the corporations who have robbed us and the seventh generation
beyond—well, instead of being a soldier in that war, I took up a camera
and pen—my plowshares.
So I do appreciate the nod from More Deliberately—I'm glad if I appear to be thinking. And though I have rarely participated in these "memes," as bloggers call them, I am happy to shine the light on some people who make me think. None of these will likely be a surprise to you, but let me say that, when I'm 800 posts behind in my reading, I let some writers cut to the front of the line. Choosing five is hard, because a lot depends on my mood. But these five are always in the Top Ten. And sometimes, I will not visit a favorite, because I know I'll have to think a LOT, and I don't have time.
In absolutely no particular order—except as this one reminded me of that one—my Thinking Bloggers Awards go to:
1. Becks & Posh. Only a foolish person who didn't read very much would complain about food bloggers not having the credentials to review restaurants. (Ahem, he knows who he is. Wait, no, he doesn't.) But restaurant reviews constitute only a fraction of what makes Sam Breach not only thinking, but thoughtful. My favorite thing about her is that, despite being incredibly beautiful, she has a "warts and all" attitude that is a breath of fresh air in this world. Who else would give unedited glimpses into their private lives—inviting (not daring or challenging: she's too much of lady to throw that kind of attitude) you to show the world the inside of your refrigerator? (Mine's at the end of this post.) What next, Sam, the drawer with your knickers?
While Sam enjoys the incredible good fortune of being talented and having the means and skills to create amazing dining opportunities in her life (she's firmly ensconced in the constellation of food cognoscenti in San Francisco), she doesn't flaunt it or give the impression that she wants people to envy her. Her writing is inclusive, irreverent, and self-deprecating—and thoroughly charming, as she admits her ignorance on issues that she sets about immediately to correct. I may never meet her, but it's enough to me that she's in the world doing good and making people laugh. It's good to entertain and educate.
2. Speaking of entertaining while educating, there is Mr. Matt Bites. After reading about his intimate love affair with a tub of snails, I was glad to learn he's married to someone else, because lips that touch garden snails (one of our three sworn enemies here at Casa Soquel) will never touch mine. Like Sam, Matt may live in a rarefied world of opportunity and privilege—but the privileges are the result having talent and professionalism. And hey, he's a professional. There is nothing of the Politically Correct, ponderous punditry at MattBites. He's just on a mission to enjoy life, and he shares that with everyone who visits. You show up for the freak show (that is, if you Googled "blogger who ate garden snails") and stay for the photography, and the funnies, and for the fact that you realize you're in the presence of someone who grew up with an intensely loving family. Believe it or not, people like this MAKE ME THINK.
3. True confessions. I lied when I said that these are all in my Top Ten. Ms. Jennifer Jeffrey, a.k.a "Writer," is always the first or second blog I read. Months and months ago, Jennifer crept into my consciousness and then took a front-row seat. I am hard-pressed to explain what it is, but I am constantly made to think, to ponder, to wonder, and then turn to my own life for reflection. She writes about a myriad of subjects, and weaves them all together with clarity. Morever, I have actually met Jennifer: I had the good fortune to have dinner with her on a farm in Petaluma, and then to share cheese and wine with her at a class taught by cheesemaker Wil Edwards and sommelier Alex Fox. Ladylike, yes, but put her in front of a plate of good cheese, and she goes R-rated. Enjoying food, and enjoying life, and wanting to share that abundance with as many people as possible, is something I admire.
Are you detecting a theme? Good.
4. Naturally, Michael Ruhlman belongs on any list of Thinking Bloggers—he's getting his pretty toes wet in political waters, rightly and indignantly questioning the politics deny clean food as a birthright. While many of us came to love him from his books—on everything from cooking to chefs to the craft of building or rebuilding wooden boats and houses—we are likewise glad for the more informal, off the cuff pieces that are afforded too rarely due to demands of his professional life. It's fun that he lets Anthony Bourdain out of the basement: what a pair of dirty, rotten scoundrels they can be, eh?
5. There is one that I will set apart from these four, as Patricia Digh is not a food blogger. Her 37 Days often goes into me like an arrow, and last week was no exception. I had been somehow unaware of it being National Poetry Month, but this post, "Are You Waving or Drowning?," which I read on the eve of my birthday, made me cry.
Her writing is so comprehensive, so life-affirming, so imbued with wisdom and love, I would have to say that, if I only were allowed to read one blog—just one—it would be hers. I already know how to cook. I already know how to eat. But do I know how to live?
Truly, a Thinking Blogger if ever there was one.
And that's my list.
Five hardly seems enough, and I sure feel uneasy, as though I'm voting everyone else off the island. But it's the nature of these exercises to be stream of consciousness. And this one is no exception. Thanks to the people who write these five blogs, and to all the other 180 I read on a regular basis.
• • • • • • • • • • •
A RECOMMENDATION
A multi-talented young woman, Malika Henderson, whom I've worked with on occasion over the past five years or so—we were both involved with a company who produced farm dinners—sent me an e-mail to acquaint me with some of the sweeping changes in her life. I was a subscriber to Nobody's Fool for a while before they stopped being produced. (Read: sweeping changes.) But she writes with good news:
The reason/excuse for so much travel is that I'm re-launching my newsletter/magazine. Current subscribers of Nobody's Fool (like you!) are going to have the remainder of their subscription filled by the new pub, and I'm extending all current subscriptions for an additional year, as thanks
for hanging in there.The new name is MealTicket, and the focus is on family culinary travel. I have a new website. The first issue is on San Francisco—Chinatown and the Richmond District. After that, we've got a summer berry issue, then it's mozzarella di bufala from Paestum, Italy.
I've also decided to run color all the way through, instead of just the cover. I had to raise the price a little, but I think it's worth it. The website shows the new look-and-feel—let me know what you think!
I hope it's okay with Malika that I send you to peek at some of the archives, because that is how I first found out about her writing. And her talent in the kitchen.
Highly recommended.
• • • • • • • • • • •
Okay, Sam, are you happy? Here's my refrigerator: nothing to be ashamed of (well, it's not a sub-zero fancy thing, not in the least), but hardly a beacon to the afore-mentioned reduced carbon footprint. Enlarging pictures makes caption larger, too.
Sorry for the mixed fonts: I couldn't make up my mind and didn't want to go back and create all new ones.
I have to get dinners started: we're grilling burgers from TLC Ranch's grass-fed pastured steer, and golden zucchini, and I'll do something with the favas and purple artichokes from Betty Van Dyke.
Hooray: the farmers market opened today in Live Oak. Logan played with little Lucy, of Thomas Family Farm; a bluegrass band played "Man of Constant Sorrow" by request; I got to chat with Robin Somers (remember she teaches the writing class, "The Meaning of Food" up at UCSC)—it was a great day to soak up sun while breakfasting on a chicken tamale from Gabriella Cafe and a goat-cheese/asparagus empanada from Frog Hollow Farm.
• • • • • • • • • • •
Finally, the poem I didn't post, as I'd told Patricia I might on my birthday, which would have concluded National Poetry Month: "Otherwise," by Jane Kenyon.
Otherwise
I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.
At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know
it will be otherwise.
by Jane Kenyon
She wrote that when she knew she was dying of leukemia. She was the Poet Laureate of New Hampshire, and I love her work.
Thanks for visiting.
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