Farms, Wineries, Ice Cream

Great article about pear farming and wine making in the Pacific Northwest: http://proof.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/02/27/a-perfect-pear/?apage=4]

I have a secret dream to live at/own a winery one day. I imagine myself running the little shop where visitors come for tastings, and selecting cheeses, fruits, and other local foods to pair with the wines. Maybe there could even be a little winery cafe, where I cooked up delicious meals to serve alongside the delicious drinks. Really and truly, it would be wonderful.

Perhaps yesterday's traipse through North Carolina's Botanical Gardens and drive through the farm-laden countryside has me romanticizing about this concept, but it just seems like such a nice way of living. My mom keeps giving me articles about local restaurants that produce their menus based on what's available from local farms, creameries, and the nearby coast's fishermen. She still presses me to open a small cafe based around the concepts of good food, good conversation, and good community. I can't argue with her that those are things I love, deeply. There's something really wonderful about a connectedness to the land and place and food that always makes me swoon. As I drove around the outskirts of Chapel Hill enjoying fresh banana ice-cream from Mapleview Farms, I couldn't help but think how much I've missed this type of life.

I grew up in mostly small towns dotted across North and South Carolina, spending much of my free time outside with friends or reading books. At mealtime during the summer, my mom would serve fresh produce from the garden-delicious raw tomatoes and cucumbers, steamed squash and zuchinni, deep fried okra. Meanwhile, trips to the North Carolina mountains to visit my Dad's parents were filled with fresh-baked cookies, cheese straws, and all kinds of gussied up Southern cuisine. Community was very often, if not always, built around meals. Similarly, I fondly recall weekend picnics and extended trips to the coast to enjoy time with family and delicious food. Some of my greatest memories are all wrapped up in fresh-caught crab, farmers' market veggies, and giant watermelons. Perhaps because i'm artistically inclined, I remember the tastes and sights better than the words exchanged or exact circumstances. And maybe all the chagrin I once carried for my Southern upbringing is now turning into a deep admiration and appreciation.