What exactly is..."Local"

Yesterday we were in the thick of moving, and decided to stop off at Whole Foods for lunch. We were discussing our Thanksgiving plans when we realized this was shaping up to be the easiest local meal we'll make this year.

Local turkey, apple pie (from the apples I lovingly peeled and sliced a few weeks ago), pumpkin pie (not canned--the real deal from a local pumpkin patch), some root veggies and probably a crisp Kale salad. And let's not forget fresh baked bread from local flour we get from Nash's Organic Produce!

There is a tradition, however, that I feared wouldn't be the same. That tradition is simple: sitting on the couch while the turkey is cooking, watching football and eating...chips. That's right. Chips. The saltiest, greasiest chips that provide a great amount of crunch and crumb.

When I mentioned this to Dan, we started brainstorming...We could make our own! We could make them out of sweet potatoes! We could try baked versus fried! Yes!

But that also sounded like a whole lotta work, and so while at Whole Foods, I wandered through the chip aisle, just to see what is already out there.

Stickers lined the shelves - "LOCAL!" - pointing out local products. I picked up a bag. "Organic Corn Tortilla chips, made with loving care in Washington..."

Yes...

"...with Organic Corn from the American Southwest". Damn.

I turned over bag after bag labeled by Whole Foods as "LOCAL", and couldn't find a single product actually from Washington.

Now, I appreciate local businesses. I think supporting local businesses is important. But Washington has lots of corn. Why couldn't they get their corn from a grower in Washington State?

I guess when it comes down to it, to truly support the little guy, or support the local farmers, you need to do just that. There is only one way to truly know where your food is coming from.

Buy direct.

Shalom

It's hard to believe we've been in Tel Aviv for 4 days already. There is no easier place to eat locally than Israel, I've found, and this was only emphasized today after a walk through Ha Carmel market.

The market lifts your senses to new levels. Crowded and chaotic, people shove through the aisles, shouting niceties to vendors and wishing each other L'Shana Tova, or a happy new year, which is fast approaching.

Locals pull their two wheeled grocery carts behind them, loading up on local eggs, cheeses and vegetables for the coming Sabbath dinner. Sweet, warm bread smells linger in the air, so rich you can almost taste the honey.

A small woman in a turban uses what seems to be a steel drum and a large, hard pillow to hammer out long sheets of lavash. Deep purple eggplants entice, and herb stands tout piles of locally grown, locally ground herbs, the colors vibrant and stunning.



Fresh fruit stands overflow with bunches giant, hard grapes, and beautiful lavender figs line the whole of the market. Giant heaps of olives of different sizes and colors glisten in the breaks of sunlight. I asked a woman if the olive oil she was selling was from Israel, and she looked at me like I was a fool. "Of course ees frum Eesrael...everything eees."




I stocked up only on olives and grapes for our drive tomorrow, wishing I had more time to actually cook a meal with ingredients from this very market. But we're heading to Jerusalem and the Dead Sea, and soon we'll be leaving Israel, so there is no time to cook. While I'm excited to be out of the humidity and heat, and back to my kitchen in Seattle, I know part of me will miss Israel. The noise, the commotion, and all of those fresh, fresh ingredients.