“Hi, Mom! Hey, how much do chicken wings cost? Some guys are coming over tonight to play cards, and I want to make hot wings. I’m going to have to get them at the grocery store, ’cause the farmers’ market hasn’t started yet.” It was my son, Robb, calling from New York last April.
I never gave much thought to the kind of interaction I’d have with my children once they were grown and on their own. Perhaps I should have expected that many of our conversations would center on food and cooking, but I was too busy wading through all that adolescent angst to look into the future, so the frequent cooking discussions have come as a bit of a surprise — especially those with Robb.
All three kids know their way around a kitchen, but Robb was the family’s junk-food junkie. In high school and college, his cooking was pretty much limited to making white sauce (milk thickened with a mixture of flour and butter), with which he could prepare two of his favorites: biscuits and gravy and cream-sauced pasta. Anyone unfortunate enough to ride in his car’s passenger seat had to rest their feet on a wasteland of fast-food cups, sacks, and wrappers. The only vegetables he liked were corn and green beans with lots of bacon. He scoffed at “that whole organic thing.”
What a difference being on his own has made. Since moving to New York, Robb has discovered the joy of shopping at the farmers’ market near his apartment. “In a weird way, it’s a connection to home,” he says. He enthuses about the quiches he can buy there, about the changing variety of sausages available at “the chicken lady’s” stand. Robb even started growing tomatoes and herbs on his minuscule balcony. This summer he really took the plunge: He joined a community-supported agriculture group. CSAs have sprung up all around the country. They allow consumers to share the risks and rewards that farmers experience. A prepaid fee covers the entire season. The farmers benefit from the predictable income, and members receive a box of produce — their portion of what the farm has to offer each week. Some CSAs have other options as well. Robb also gets milk (“absolutely the best milk you’ve ever tasted, Mom!”), eggs, and butter from his CSA.
Lately our phone calls have had a similar pattern. In the early summer it was all about greens: “Hi! OK, I’ve got a ton of stuff here. Do you have a recipe that uses kale? And there’s this Asian green — I forget what it’s called. The leaves are kind of pointy — do you know what it is?” Or “If I eat huge salads the rest of the week, I’ll be able to use up all the lettuce before the next CSA pickup” Later the conversations became more multicolored: “How do you cook beets?” and “I’ve got these yellow squashes that look like flying saucers with scalloped edges. What do I do with those?”
Robb works with emotionally disturbed children and is pursuing a master’s degree at NYU, so he’s on an extremely tight budget. That makes me all the more proud that he’s seen the light, and I’m glad to answer his questions. I couldn’t help him with the price of chicken wings, though, and not just because I don’t shop in New York.
It’s been years since I’ve bought industrially produced chicken. We always had pastured, naturally raised chickens and eggs when I was growing up — either our own or ones raised by farmer friends. During our four-year stint in Chicago while my husband was in dental school, though, I got used to store-bought chicken. By the time we moved back to Springfield, my grandparents no longer raised their own, and I continued buying chickens in the store. The occasional chicken I got from those (also aging) farmer friends always reminded me how wonderful chicken could taste, though. The more I learned about commercial poultry operations, the more concerned I became about their deleterious effects on human health and the environment, as well as the miserable conditions the chickens endure, but I didn’t know where to find enough pastured chicken to meet my needs.
That changed when I met Paul Gebhart. Paul is a lanky, talkative farmer who is passionate about promoting natural farming methods.
Most people today are unaware that chicken tender enough to fry or grill used to be only available in the spring. My grandfather, one of nine children, recalled that rich relatives in town always timed visits to their country cousins to coincide with the year’s first fried chicken, leaving the country kids with only the backs and necks to eat. Later in the year, larger, tougher, birds would be roasted or stewed.
Indoor commercial operations operate year-round and are centered in the South, but pastured chickens are only locally raised from spring to fall. Freezing makes naturally raised chicken available year-round.
Pastured chicken is now easier to buy than it’s been since it was the only kind available. Operations such the Bear Creek, Triple “S” and Gebhart farms are increasing in number and scope. Health-food stores such as Food Fantasies offer locally produced chicken. Web sites such as www.eatwellguide.org list where consumers can obtain local, sustainably raised meat, dairy, and produce. The guide is not complete (Gebhart is on the list; Triple “S” and Bear Creek are not), but it’s a useful source and interesting to see how many options are out there.
Pastured chicken is more expensive, granted. Prices start at around $2.50 per pound — but, as the old adage says, “You get what you pay for.” For a few dollars more you can have supremely flavorful chicken, raised in a humane and healthy environment — or there’s the cheaper alternative: chicken stuffed with growth hormones and antibiotics and susceptible to salmonella and other diseases because of overcrowded, miserable living conditions. It’s your choice.
Send questions and comments to Julianne Glatz at realcuisine@insightbb.com.
This article appears in Sep 7-13, 2006.
