Say When with Max Silvestri: Southside CSA
A man about town writes about town
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I don't think I'm alone when I say that reading The Omnivore's Dilemma, Michael Pollan's gripping account of where the food on our tables actually comes from, changed my life forever. Well, I mean, I wish that were true. What I mean to say is that reading the first 30 pages of that book, along with a never-ending stream of blog posts and op-eds, made me sort of want to change part of my life, for a while. At least until everybody settled down. Corn, guys! Ugh, don't you hate corn? I mean, I love corn, but did you know it's in everything? It's in too many things, I guess. Just eating an ear of corn is fine, for now. But drinking a corn soda? Don't do that. Put that Corna-Cola down! The Omnivore's Dilemma is sort of like that episode of Hey Dude where Danny, a Native American, bets Ted he can't go a week without using items at Bar None that were influenced by Danny's culture. And Ted can't! Ted finds out that even the towel he dries off with after his shower has dyes the Indians found, or something. I think we can all agree The Omnivore's Dilemma is this generation's Hey Dude.
Nothing was really going to make me stop eating whatever I wanted, whenever, because I am basically already living on the spaceship in Wall-E, but I figured joining a CSA might help things out a bit. It's like Mayor Bloomberg taking a cab to the subway stop. CSA stands for "community supported agriculture," and how it works is you pay up front for a share in a farm's haul for the season, then every week or so you go pick up produce. Occasionally you chip in with the work involved. It's all volunteer-run and it really gets you closer to your food. I joined Southside CSA in Williamsburg, whose main partner is the MimoMex Farm in Goshen, N.Y. The plan was that every other Monday, through the summer and the fall, I'd show up at Bridget Wine Bar, with my own bags, and cart home delicious vegetables, fruits, and farm eggs. But not before a stop at McDonald's, because I am complicated.
It's all worked out pretty well. First, I enjoy volunteering, because it's refreshing to deal politely with real people and smile and make eye contact instead of just sitting at my computer refreshing Facebook to distract myself from writing dumb jokes. Also, the food's amazing. The eggs can't be be beat, and I have gotten really good at pickling carrots and roasting beets. Look at me! I am Laura Ingalls Silvestri over here. Not everything is perfect, though. As you are just buying into whatever the farm gets up to, there are no refunds if the farm has a bad season, and you get no say in what they grow. My fruit share on Monday night was just one big watermelon. I said no thank you, because watermelons are a gross fruit and who wants to carry one home. As I left, I saw a guy drop and explode his on the sidewalk. I am not proud to say I felt good about that.
The other problem is that after signing up for this CSA, I moved about 25 minutes away from the pick-up spot, so I am forced to take a car service home every week. It's embarrassing, when you are standing outside Bridget Wine Bar with your canvas bags full of fresh vegetables while volunteers all around you tune up their fixed-gear bikes and pet their dogs and talk about collaborating on activism and then, for whatever reason, the car company pulls up in a gigantic Chevy Tahoe, for the second week in a row, to pick you up. Really, a Tahoe? You don't have a bigger vehicle that runs exclusively on corn as opposed to just primarily? Maybe next week you can send a Hummer limousine with a Taco Bell built in and then just drive it straight through the window of Bridget Wine Bar and kill everyone inside.
