by Jamie S.
I've been living in the South for...let's see, six years now. And still it catches me off guard. If I hadn't been involved in the Eat Local Challenge, I might never have noticed that Georgia's strawberry season is in full swing right now. It's over by the end of May--I could have missed it by mistake, which would have been very unfortunate indeed.
So yesterday, while I was in town, I decided to take a break from my errands and pick some strawberries. Washington Farms is tucked in among some of the University of Georgia's myriad agriculture demonstration sites. It's an unassuming flat spot with a few novelty livestock pens and a couple of acres of raised, black-plasticked strawberry rows.
I had shopped around online to see if there were any organic u-picks in my area, but no dice. I suspect it is pretty hard to grow strawberries on that scale without any chemical intervention. At least the black plastic seems to eliminate the need for herbicides. But ugh, the pesticides! I could smell them. I didn't fault the owners for using them, because I have tried to grow strawberries myself and found them challenging. But that didn't stop me from hurrying to scrub my hands at the nearest public restroom, then (once I was at home) triple-washing all the berries before tasting even the tiniest morsel.
Anyway, the picking: Two gallon baskets at $8 per gallon. And they were much nicer than the ones you can get at the grocery. It makes you wonder why they truck them in from California when we have our own! What exactly is the point of that?
All in all, it was really a lovely experience, aside from the rain that started to spatter as I worked my way up the row. The only downside is that I felt the u-pick format was wasteful. People always want the most pristine berries--who can blame them?--and leave the rest to rot. It makes sense, because you want your money's worth. But it's the opposite of what you'd do if it were your own berry patch and you wanted to eke every last berry out of it.
With the berries tucked in a safe corner of the trunk of the car, I proceeded to Earth Fare in Athens. There, I was suddenly struck by a pang of hunger (remember, I hadn't eaten any of my berries because they weren't washed yet). Scrambling for a local snack, I happened upon a Toasted Almond Crispy Cat, made by Tree Huggin Treats (their lack of punctuation, not mine) of Asheville, N.C.
As many Eat Local Challengees have noticed, local food often comes with a personal connection. As I purchased the candy bar, the checkout girl cried out, "Ooh, these are good! They're made in my hometown. I know the guy who makes them." Was she biased? Probably. But let me tell you, that was one heck of a delicious candy bar. I like to support small food entrepreneurs, especially if they have the singular talent of being able to make brown rice taste good.
The Earth Fare store yielded some other pleasant surprises, too. There were brownish-purple heirloom tomatoes grown in Athens. And most thrillingly, there was frozen quail from my own county seat of Greensboro, Ga.! (Food miles: 13 if I find a way to get hold of it directly; this package, stupidly, had to travel 30 miles each way to Athens.)
Once I got home, I immediately had to start dealing with my two gallons of strawberries. So far I've made a batch of delectable jam--which we have eaten an embarrassing amount of already--and have frozen two quarts. Next up is strawberry shortcake made with Southern Biscuit flour.
Maybe it's not earth-shattering, but eating locally feels good. And no matter how long I strive to do it, there is always something new to discover.
Jamie S. lives in rural Georgia and writes 10 Signs Like This, a blog that's part gardening journal, part cookbook, part sustainable lifestyle, and part short attention span.
