Pigs Can Fly

After a week of Indian summer, a blast of cold air blew in from Minnesota just in time for the last Sunday of the East Lansing Farmer's Market.  It's the kind of day that makes your bones rattle and your fingers numb.  There's a wet chill on the wind whispering that snow won't be far behind, scaring the last of the leaves from the embattled trees that surround Valley Court...  home to our small, but very enthusiastic weekly gathering of area farmers, bakers, bee keepers and banjo players.  There, every Sunday from July to October, you can find a rainbow assortment of locally-grown organic vegetables, humanely-raised meat and chicken, fresh-caught fish driven in from the Upper Peninsula's pristine waters, and off beat home-canned concoctions like kimchee, hot sauce and smoked whitefish dip.

I don't know how long the ELFM has been in operation, but I know that I came across it three years ago, and fell for it, hook line and sinker (appropriate for a Fish.)  Sundays are my favorite day to dream, and I do a lot of it as I wander among the tents, sipping apple cider, singing along to an eclectic mix of live music, and filling my shopping bags with the ingredients for a week's worth of family dinners.

Most Sundays, my husband and I walk the mile to the market hand in hand, trailing behind us our year-old Labradoodle, Jadzia.  We chat amiably with vendors and neighbors, while Jadzia flirts with the children that always want to pet her.  We might sit on the hill, soaking up the summer sunshine and listening to the band play, or we might buy our lunch from one of the excellent food trucks in the parking lot.

We have our weekly "must buy" items -- eggs that are so fresh that I swear you can still hear the hen cluck when you cook them, Spartan Country Meat's fresh whole chicken, sweet garlic, and a loaf of Stone Circle sourdough bread.  We never buy more than we can carry, although it occurs to me that sometimes we're more optimistic about our carrying power than we ought to be, as I massage the strap marks off of my weary shoulders.

On the walk home, I dream out loud about my plans for all the fabulous meals I'm going to make, and Bob offers suggestions about what we could grill, or whom we might invite over to share in all the yummy goodness.  And then I cook... all Sunday afternoon, while I listen to NPR, or sing along to Nina Simone.  Ahhhhhhh, heaven.

Like most of my women friends, I am a collection of a lot different personalities.  On any given day of the week, I'm a gardener, or a high-heel wearing blues diva, or an egg-head competitive scrabble player, or a wine-sipping brie-nibbling French girl, or the hurried and harried logistical manager of this multi-faceted enterprise we call THE FISH FAMILY (just to name a few.)  But on Sundays, thanks to the ELFM, I unleash my inner granola-eating birkenstock-wearing hippie chick earth mother... and boy, she loves the Farmer's Market.  And she gets depressed each Halloween, knowing that she's going to be put away for the winter like the flower pots on our porch or the rattan furniture in our gazebo.

But not this year.  No, this year is going to be different...  all because of a pig.  Well, half a pig, to be precise.

You see, a couple of weeks ago, during our weekly stop at the Spartan Country Meats tent, I noticed a sign that read "Last Day to Order Your Pig."  On impulse, I asked my bewildered husband to whip out his credit card, and hippie-chick earth mother girl hatched her plan to make the ELFM last all winter long.  We bought half a pig... 95 pounds of porcine dreams to take us from October to July, when the market will return once again.

This blog, Fish and the Pig, will document this culinary adventure...  complete with pictures and recipes.  At least two pig dishes a week, until we run out or we go crazy.  I'll be looking for ideas and suggestions.... 95 pounds of pork is a daunting proposition.  But I can't wait to start.  One of my heros, Julia Child would say Bon Appetit!  But I think I'll just say oink oink.