piecemeal

We discuss the co-op as a social institution to provide highly sustainable conscious living options framed in an alternate economic system, we discuss our lifestyle in terms of providing an energetic socially dynamic community, we mention the delights of chore load-balancing, or the therapy of constant laughter.

But don't underestimate the power of damn good food.

6 delicious nutritious dinners a week, brunch on Saturday; international vegetarian and vegan multi-course meals, fresh bread and desserts, home-baked granola for breakfast - and each of us only cooks (and cleans) twice a month. Forget fetching papa's pipe and slippers: I vigorously vote that the embrace of kitchen scents are the best greeting at the door in the evening. (Not to mention a nonsense conversation around the dinner table rating as the best painkiller ever.)

I love tasting the new foods folks try out, rejoicing to see my favorite flavours in new incarnations, and pushing myself to discover or develop new recipes for 14-person meals that strike me more as a celebration than a chore. Kate's famous meals took her all afternoon and presented us with the quandary of whether to photograph or dig into the intensely beautiful cuisine laid out for us. It wasn't just intensely YUMMY, it was intensely artistic.

But I must say, as nice as the lack of responsibility for food prep is... I have fun too on nights where we have a gap in the calendar and everyone gathers in the kitchen for an impromptu meal pieced together and enjoyed together.

we owe you one, haymarket

Sitting in the kitchen last night eating cherries and watermelon with Kate, I told Glenn that Kate and I had spoken many hours about serious things while leaning on the kitchen island... that the Haymarket community had kept me stable.

"What would you have done without Haymarket?" Glenn nodded.

"Broken up with you, for sure," I confessed. I know with the dramas our relationship wouldn't have survived without my house as an outlet for discussions.

"Well," said Glenn quite seriously. "I owe a lot to Haymarket."

Kate smiled. "I think we all do."

kate's story

When I was in sixth grade I had this really good-looking boyfriend. He was Italian, named Rafael, and for our age he had really amazing dress sense.

We had been going out for three weeks - which was an incredibly long time of course - when I approached him before play rehearsal and asked him to go to the deli. That was what we did, we always went to the deli.

He leaned over, kissed me on the cheek, and said, "I hereby dumpeth you."

Then with no explanation, he walked away. Almost immediately we had play rehearsal, so then he had his arm around me in character and all I could think was that the jerk had just DUMPED me.

My best friend told me that he had PLANNED to come up to me, give me a long full kiss and then ask, "Did you like that?" And when I said yes, he'd say, "Well it was your last one. I hereby dumpeth you" but my friend heard and had convinced him that was too mean.

So I got, "I hereby dumpeth you." Awesome.

By high school I found out that stylish good-looking Rafael had come out of the closet -- and that made me feel a lot better about the whole thing.

if only our convos were as savory as our menus

I cooked last night: pasta alfredo, grilled cheese, carrot & cilantro soup, tomato slices with basil, and a nice salad with strawberrys, pears, radish and mozzarella.

Cooking for Haymarket is always a pleasure as it becomes more of an event than a chore, and the rotation allows me to be extravagant when I do make meals. My last brunch: paella, quiche, tomato with sage, garlic mushrooms, citrus & spinach salad.

Informal press conferences answering questions about our lifestyle for mystified co-workers have given must of us a lineup of regular suspects, question-wise, and some of the greatest curiousity surrounds our feeding set-up. Who cooks and how often? Who chooses the grocery list? And a reliable "VEGETARIAN food? I couldn't do it." Although generally once I rattle off the last meal I had cooked then even the meat-eaters of the bloodiest variety acknowledge that they might be able to survive a proper vegetarian meal.

Kate takes the title for absolute culinary royalty, and in the old days I'd say Craig rocked the refection as well, although his withdrawal over the last lonely months in the house resulted in some dishes along the lines of "lentil casserole" or some such chaw and glutch. (Craig, I desperately miss your dicing prowess.) One of the most vivid memories I have of Floyd's application was the mouthwatering bit about earning his voyage on a boat off Africa by cooking for an international crew.

Don't get me wrong, there are some bummers of meals. I recently "roasted" a tray of veggies that looked more like ashes then asparagus by the time I remembered to take them out. Or Ed's infamous gumbo prepared with 4 CUPS of butter that only enhanced the naturally slimey qualities of okra.




Sue me - the texture of body fluids is just not a turn-on to my taste buds.




Plus we all have our lazy cooking nights. And in fairness spaghetti and stir fry are valid, delicious dishes. I even crave macaroni and cheese sometimes - may deities forgive tastes developed during the nutritional indiscretions of my youth - which means I lick my lips at Megan's "Tex Mex Macaroni Surprise" that looks like a school cafeteria lunch but turns out to be quite tasty.

My true test will be when Glenn visits, whether I can serve up tofu in a tasty form that doesn't make his eyes cross - or whether he'll ask the omnivores in the house to smuggle him out to Ribs n' Bibs.