Until I Saw the Morning Paper

For the past few years, I've been learning about jarring, concentrating on local fruits and vegetables. This season is about half over, as apples and pears are just starting to come in. The weather has been wild here in New Jersey, so it's hard to predict what squashes and pumpkins will do. At the moment, I'm interested in jarring baby food for my two totally brilliant grandchildren and three infant cousins with that New Person smell. Three. In one year. Don't call me, I'm pureeing something on every surface of my house.

Even the baby food I jar looks like it smokes Luckies and skips nursery school.

"Hey Tata," you say, "this seems like an old-fashioned rural hobby for a tattooed punk rock chick like yourself. Ta have." Yeah yeah, big eyes big eyes to you too, Red Riding Hood. Now is an excellent time, in my opinion, to learn about food. What are we eating? Where did it come from? Who grew it? How? How was it handled and what will it do for the person who eats it? Asking these questions becomes an investment in your health and the health of - say - your totally brilliant grandchildren, because once you ask these questions, you will look for answers you can live with for a few decades into your food-eating future. And you don't have to have grandchildren to think that way. Take a good look at the way the health insurance debacle has played out, recalling that even good insurance policies only allow you to see an eye doctor every other year. How's a glass of carrot juice with dinner sound?

What are you thinking about food?