When I was young I yearned for milk in a plastic jug. 2% milk. From the store. With cereal from a box.
Instead, I had fresh, non-pasteurized, non-homogenized milk from the cow out back with granola from the bulk bins.
I craved bright green spears of pickled cucumbers plucked from the shelves of a grocery store but what I got was pickled green beans in a Mason jar from the pantry.
No Jiff on white bread for little Faith. My childhood version of a PB&J was natural peanut butter and homemade jam on a brown rice cracker.
The irony is not lost on me. It’s not lost on me as I seek out grass-fed, creamline milk in glass jars to make my yogurt from. It’s not lost on me as I breeze past the cereal aisle en route to the bin of oats at my local natural foods store. And it’s not lost on me as I gather cucumbers from my garden and spend the afternoon turning them into pickles for the winter.
These days I don’t look back on my childhood as a time of deprivation (and awkward social encounters! Whole grain eating vegetarian in West Virginia in the ’80’s? Sheesh.) but rather with gratitude to two parents who laid a solid foundation for a life of great food and good nutrition. Thanks Mom and Papa!
You know what else the folks were right about? Things just taste better when they are from the backyard, made with love, and filled with quality ingredients.
Gracefulfitness 