I Was Right Part 2

On our tour of the New England fall colors, we stopped at the Green Mountain Girls Farm.  It was a second career for a couple of middle aged women who were interested in getting back to the earth.  Words like granola, organic and homespun would describe them well.  This small 20 acre farm was like a laboratory for them to try out unconventional farming methods and restore otherwise “spent” and infertile soil.  There goal was to do all this without commercial fertilizers and pesticides.  They spoke with uncharacteristic fondness and passion about their sheep, goats, chickens and pigs.  They had tears in their eyes when they described how the manure from all these animals helped to reconstitute the soil.  It was all quite moving.

At the end of our farm tour, they provided lunch for all 44 of us on the bus.  I looked at the menu and cringed.  Of course, I should have been prepared.  This was an organic farm run by dedicated women who had a mission.  When I read the menu, my heart sank.  “Okay, Bob.  Take the high road on this one.  You can get through it.  There is always dinner this afternoon.  You won’t starve!”  All I could see was: fennel, kale, beets, carrots, ginger soup, squash, pickles, radishes, tomatoes.  Well, you get the idea.  You see, in my heart, I’m a meat and potatoes kind of a guy.  It was good enough for my Dad!  I love a good piece of meat, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn on the cob, select vegetables (very select), ice berg lettuce salads with ranch dressing (lots of it), spaghetti with meat sauce, regular Dr. Pepper, berry pie and ice cream.  I could go on and on.  But almost none of these things will come from an organic farm.  So here I go to the set table for lunch, like a condemned prisoner going to the gallows.

Waiting outside the barn (yes, we will be eating in a barn), I looked again at the menu.  I There was nothing on there that I would have voluntarily ordered from a restaurant.  As we filed in, the table was set in family style with about twelve people to a table.  I saw all the tomatoes, salads that looked like they were made from grass and four leaf clovers, cucumbers, a bean salad (ugh), beets and bread with butter.  And a suspicious brown mix that looked like turkey dressing from Thanksgiving. 

As the food was passed around, I heroically took the smallest portion I could get away with.  I tried the tomatoes which were thick, firm and juicy with a delicious oil sauce on them.  I tried the homemade bread with their butter.  How can you ruin homemade bread and butter?   I tried the beets and a small spoonful of salad.  Well, not as bad as I thought it would be.  The suspicious turkey dressing was kind of a chicken hash, and I’m embarrassed to say, delicious.  Even the pickled green beans were good.  In fact, the whole meal was surprisingly delicious and filling!  I ate and enjoyed an organic meal!

Does this mean that I’ve finally seen the light and repent from the error of my ways?  No.  I still really enjoy a hamburger and fries, spaghetti, real cola and a myriad of other things that probably aren’t good for me.  However, I am learning to be less closed minded than I was, and more open to new foods, songs, stories and people.  I am learning that meat and potatoes is not everything.  I am learning that Dad probably would have liked the organic lunch.  And mostly I’m learning that I won’t die if I have to try something new.