Eating a Local Chicken

Ok, the chicken (let's just call him Fred, for ease of reference) was delicious. Even if I couldn't cook him stuffed with two lemons, as is my wont (thanks to Marcella Hazan), he came out juicy and tasty. Instead of two lemons, I stuffed Fred with a "Sops of Wine" apple, herbs up the wazoo, Eugenie's garlic, and a wee bit of butter, just for fun (I was really nervous about him getting dry). Not as copious a harvest of juices as usual, but tasty. Stefano couldn't taste the apple, but I could - and I'm not sure I liked it as much as lemon.

But there are a TON of leftovers (5 lbs is a big bird for 2 people). Not quite sure what I'll do with them, yet, but the bones will make a tasty broth -- to freeze for another "local" meal down the line (though what will I do for pasta in the soup!! ack! a crisis!). Astrolabe was disappointed, though, because there were no giblets in the cavity for treats for him. Luckily, the "eat local" thing does not currently apply to beagles, so I'll just give him an extra treat treat. And he'll get to lick the chicken platter in the morning, lucky dog!

Bill McKibben notes in that Gourmet article that:

"I've had to think about every meal, instead of wandering through the world on autopilot, ingesting random calories. I've had to pay attention."

He's exactly right. It's like keeping kosher, really. Back in the days when I was sharing an apartment with my friend who's now a rabbi, I thought a lot about keeping kosher (we kept a kosher home, more or less). I have friends who don't like the whole idea of keeping kosher, and are happy to quote Leviticus about mixing fibers or burning witches, but I actually think I "get" kosher: it's about being conscious of what you eat, and making conscious decisions. When you're keeping kosher, those restrictions take you back to God, a tangible reminder of your religious nature. When you're eating locally, the restrictions take you back to why. Why does it matter if I pull out a bottle of Sardinian olive oil out of my cupboard? how did that olive oil get all the way here to Vermont? Is it really right to eat something that has traveled so far? Could Marco Polo have carried olive oil with him to China??

And I hate to say it, but my attitude towards cheating is similar in both instances. It didn't bother me if I mixed my meat with my dairy (though I was careful to do it in my specially reserved pan, and to eat it on my specially reserved plates). So I'm just not going to worry too much about the olive oil we fried those delicious porcini we found at Breadloaf in. Well, I'll probably feel guilty about it. But I wouldn't be me if I didn't feel guilty about something.

And Fred was really, really tasty. I just think he'd have tasted better with two lemons stuffed up his wazoo.