looking for opportunity

I have a three-year-old. A three-year-old middle child. He is doing some very typical three-year-old-middle-child things. And I have found myself responding in ways I just don't want to. Distracted. Impatient. Angry. Not amongst my favourite parenting attributes.

At the end of a half-hour three-year-old-middle-child tantrum yesterday morning, whereby the entire street heard his heartfelt desire to put on mah flashy shoes I exhaled deeply and thought for a moment. In emotional terms, a tantrum is exhausting, draining. In logical terms, the tantrum can be an opportunity to teach my child and build on our relationship.

I want my child to treat others with kindness. If I respond to his uncontrolled, confused anger with my own anger, he will repeat the cycle over and over.

I want my child to know that he is loved, unconditionally. If I hold a grudge against him, after he has probably forgotten the tantrum himself, he will feel confused about my love for him, or, worse, let down by me.

I want my child to understand acceptable boundaries of behaviour. Socially successful people understand these boundaries, and treat others in a respectful way. A three-year-old is involved in an ongoing process of learning to be socially successful. I must wait, gently, for him to calm down and participate in appropriate behaviour. There is no forcing a three-year-old.

None of this is easy, or natural. After years of teaching young children, and now working in the home raising my own, I have decided I have far more patience for others' children. Probably because I have a lot more invested in my own children. Sometimes a tantrum is a great opportunity to develop, sometimes it really is the wrong time or place for anything other than getting to the other side whichever way you can. But before I take it as a personal assault, I'll look logically at the next tantrum, and if I can see the opportunity to show my boy that he is kind, he is loved, and he can behave in an appropriate way, I'll take it.

whole chook challenge: roast + laksa + stock

I told my lovely grandmother-in-law about my whole chook challenge. She was amazed (amused? horrified?) when I confessed to never having roasted a chicken before. When her kids were little, she worked in a chicken farm/processing plant. And was allergic to chickens.

But! I can proudly say that in the past week, we have consumed no chicken other than the one, free range chicken I bought on shopping day. This is the story of the Neverending Chiii-iiicken (ah-ah-aaaah. ah-ah-aaaah. ah-ah-aaaah).

Once upon a time, I bought a chicken. A whole bird, labelled free-range. Being on special that week, the cost was the same amount I would normally spend on breast meat for one meal for my family of five.

On Sunday night, I roasted the whole bird. I found a lovely recipe for lemon and tarragon roasted chicken, but having neither lemon or tarragon, I made orange and rosemary roasted chicken instead. As I prepared the whole bird, I reflected a little on the life given to sustain ours- I felt very grateful and humble. I served the chook with roast potatoes, onions and sweet potato, steamed carrots and beans and a gravy made from the roasting juices. We carved the chook at the table.
Orange and Rosemary Roast Chicken
Pat dry your chicken with paper towel, thoroughly drying the inside of the cavity.
Into the cavity: season with salt and pepper, pop half a large orange cut into wedges, a couple of bruised garlic cloves, half a brown onion cut into chunks, and a nice spring of fresh rosemary. Tie the legs with kitchen string. I also tied the wings.
Onto the skin: Massage the juice of half an orange well into the skin, all over. Sprinkle with some olive oil and season well.
Into the oven: I cooked my chook, sitting upon a rack in my roasting pan, in a 200 degrees Celsius oven, for around an hour. Pour water into the bottom of the pan, and keep refreshing throughout the cooking. Check that juices run clear of use a meat thermometer.
Pan juices gravy
Add about a cup of water to the empty roasting pan. Bring the water to the boil, on the stovetop if your pan can go on the element, or in the oven. Stir it well to get all the crunchy, sticky bits up off the pan. Add a tablespoon of plain flour and whisk quickly until the gravy thickens. You could use arrowroot if you like a clear gravy. Season to taste.

On Monday, I removed the remaining meat from the carcass and set aside. I used the bones of the bird to make a stock. Slow cooking at its best, and very, very simple.

Chicken Stock

Break or cut the meatless chicken carcass into four smaller pieces. Roughly chop two carrots (don't bother peeling), three celery sticks (including the leafy bits), and a brown onion. Put everything into a big pot, along with some peppercorns, a couple of bay leaves and a couple of squashed garlic cloves. Cover with plenty of water. Bring the pot to the boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for ages and ages, until the broth tastes chickeny. When you like the flavour, strain well, then leave to cool so you can skim the fat. If you want to store in the freezer, return the stock to the heat and simmer to reduce even further, then you can use it like a concentrate.

On Tuesday, the remaining meat was used in a laksa- delicious but very, very hot! I use a supermarket laksa paste in a jar, with coconut milk and heaps of veggies. Make sure you have a nice big bunch of coriander and a pack of fresh beansprouts too. Yum.

All in all, I'm really happy with the economical use of the whole chicken. My stock will go into some roast veggie risotto for dinner tonight, so three meals is a pretty good stretch, I think. I will definitely be using chicken in this way from now on.

If you have a great recipe using leftover chicken meat, please link me up!

in stitches: wild thing

Some white polar fleece cut and sewn to match one of his hoodies, some polyfilled triangles for ears, and the simplest of wolf-tails made from faux fur:

Let the wild rumpus start!

It's Book Week in our parts, with a school parade this afternoon. I think there will be howling and prowling for a while longer in our place.

Enjoying the creativity of others, here.

hello, sunshine!

That first day, where the warmer weather catches you by surprise. I've been waiting for that day, keeping aware, cleverly dressing in layers so as to not get caught out, sweating in a too-hot knit and long pants.

It caught me by surprise, anyway, over the weekend. Taking the kids down to the beach, and setting them free on the sand, letting them get wet carving channels in the sand and transporting water in coffee cups. Stripping them of too-warm outer layers, knowing there was enough warmth in the sun to dry the rest.

Meeting friends, old and new, chatting about this and that, marvelling over the amazing little humans around us. Feeling truly blessed in the warm sunshine. Gratitude to be in this place, by the sea.

Welcome, Spring, I've been waiting for you!

pageturner: the shadow of the wind

Picked up at my local op shop on $2 novel day was The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.

Translated from Spanish to English, the mystery/romance/coming of age novel wouldn't be something I would ordinarily pick up. But, boy. Am I glad I did.

This book was written for readers. Those of us who grew up with our nose in a book and our favourite characters as best friends. I had marked a few pages, with the most glorious language, but in the end, this part of the book says it all:

Bea says that the art of reading is slowly dying, that it's an intimate ritual, that a book is a mirror that offers us only what we already carry inside us, that when we read, we do it with all our heart and mind, and great readers are becoming more scarce by the day.

The story follows Daniel, the young son of a bookstore owner who discovers a book by a mysterious author. Set against a backdrop of Barcelona's civil war, Daniel's quest to uncover the truth about the author and the disappearance of his novels is a really engaging tale. The language is so rich, it took me a while to sink into. Like strong, dark chocolate, I could only manage a few small nibbles at a time for the first half of the book. I read the second half in one sleepless night. As I turned the final page, sometime around 2.45am, I let out an audible exhale. Loved it.

Are you reading something that makes you feel like a great reader now?

nourish: whole chook challenge

Did you know that Australians consume an average of 37kilograms of chicken meat per year? We eat chicken in this house, probably on a 1:2 ratio with red meat. Do you know how much of my chicken meat I bought as whole birds in the past year?

None.

I've never cooked a whole chook. The convenience and habit of buying my chicken in skinless, boneless pieces- almost always breast, sometimes thigh- at a cheap price has been deeply ingrained in my shopping routine.

image

I was touched and inspired by Kate's post about the preparation of chicken at her organic farm. I felt a call to action, to inform myself about the products I buy, cook for my family and eat. To mindfully consider. We aren't at the point of going vegetarian, although my recent focus on quality, local, organic fruits and vegetables has had the happy spin-off of increasing the number of vegetarian meals we are eating throughout the week.

I am setting myself a challenge:

Buy only whole, free-range chicken for a month.

One meal of chicken breast costs around the same as a whole free-range chook, which should yield two meals, if I'm clever. I need to do some learning about how to piece a chicken, and also the yummiest roast.

Hit me with your favourite whole-chook recipes.

nourish: bread

Things have changed this week. We have become a house of home-made bread. And what a glorious thing that is.

It all started last weekend, when my family came to visit. I thought I would give a recipe for five-minute-bread I had seen on Down to Earth a try. It was a huge success, and I've had a fresh loaf baked every other day. It truly is a simple exercise, much simpler than the results gained!

Pane di casa. Literally.

You will need a heavy lidded pot. I already have an enamelled cast-iron one which I love making rich, hearty, slow-cooked things in. Mum and I spied a wider, shallower version in Aldi last week, so we snapped one of those each.

It really is as simple as mix, leave, shape, bake.

Mix: 5 cups plain flour + 2 1/2 cups water + 1 1/2 teaspoons salt +1/2 teaspoon yeast
Leave: cover and leave overnight in a warmish place
Shape: Ease the dough out of the bowl and shape however you like.
Bake: Preheat the lidded pot in a very hot (250 degrees Celsius) oven for 15mins. Bake for 30mins, then a further 10mins at 200 degrees Celsius with the lid off.

I have had some fairly brickish results from past breadmaking efforts, but this one is a keeper. I know because i just wrote the recipe down by heart.

Ham and Cheese scrolls looking oh-so-toasty.

My tips:
I've been using 1 1/5 cups wholemeal flour and 3 1/2 cups white.
Warm water seems to help with the rising more than cold.
If you have an oven with a separate grill section, you can turn the oven on low and sit your dough in the grill section to get nice and cosy and rise a little quicker.
The less you touch it the better. The recipe calls for a quick knead after rising, but my better loaves have been turned out and only very briefly massaged.
Stock up on butter. You are going to need it.

These babies will be going in the freezer for emergency school lunches.

Do you make bread at your place?

in season: whole orange cake

My Nanna used to make whole orange cake, and the smell and little chunks of rind send me back to childhood immediately. She would make lemon cream cheese icing for hers. I struggle to not scoff the whole cake the moment it is out of the oven. My recipe is a hybrid of Rhonda's from her book/blog Down to Earth and Aunty Sue's recipe. Aunty Sue isn't really my aunt, but a very close friend of my mother-in-law, she taught me how to embroider. But of course, no recipe will ever hold a candle to my Nanna's.

Grab this:

Do this:

I must be finished the bucket of oranges, right? Not quite, but the rest will be another round of cakes, I think, and perhaps some fresh juice for a sick little man home from school. I'm happy with the range of recipes I created with those juicy, golden orbs:

Spiced Orange Roasted Chicken

Choc-Orange Self-Saucing Pudding

Orange Passion Cordial

Arancello (Orange Liqueur) Two Ways

Roast Veggie and Orange Salad

Sweet Orange Syrup and Serendipity Pancakes

Whole Orange Cake

I'm yet to try Greer's Orange and Walnut Cake, but I will soon!

What in-season ingredient are you cooking with this week?

in season: roast veg and orange salad

During a glorious weekend of family visiting and staying and eating and staying out of the cold, windy weather, I made the most delicious salad of warm roast veggies and oranges.

Not a picture of vegetable and orange salad? No. Because I also had some wine. I'll get back to orange syrup shortly.

My salad was to be a fennel, haloumi and orange salad. I had never tasted fennel before, and when I did, I spat it across the kitchen decided my palate wasn't sophisticated enough. Please tell me how to use fennel. So, instead, I did the following:
roasted three beetroots, peeled and quartered, with a little olive oil and salt and pepper
roasted large diced pumpkin and eggplant in a hot oven
opened and drained a can of chickpeas
ordered requested hubby grill a block of haloumi that I had cut into strips
caramelised (ooh, fancy) some leeks that I'd cut in half
segmented two oranges
made a lazy dressing of olive oil, apple cider vinegar and Australian mustard
threw arranged it on a platter one handed while holding a glass of wine. sprinkled over the chickpeas and dressing.

 It really was delicious, and looked very pretty, which you can't tell from the photo.

I actually segmented too many oranges for the salad, so when I got up in the morning I made a big batch of pancakes, and some orange syrup to go with them.

The orange syrup was simply a matter of bringing equal parts fresh orange juice and sugar to the boil, then simmering until it thickens. I'm sure you could be posh and put some grog or spices or something in it, but I was hungover hungry. And, I made the best pancakes of my life! Accidentally. because I didn't have buttermilk and used a yoghurt/milk combination instead. I call them,
Serendipity Pancakes
get this:
2 cups flour
1/2 cup caster sugar
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 egg
1 1/2 cups natural yoghurt (I used my first batch of home-made which was unsweetened)
1 cup whole milk

do this:
Mix dry ingredients in a big bowl.
Whisk wet ingredients together.
Combine wet into dry, mixing to a smooth batter. Add more milk if it isn't runny enough.
Fry blobfulls of your desired size over a medium-high heat. In butter.
Serve warm with sweet orange syrup. Or butter. Enjoy!

dear pokies...

image

Dear Pokies,
I fucking hate you. I hate your cheery music through the phone, tinkling behind a lie. I hate the tick-tick-tick of your computerised spin. I hate your lights, pretty colours and cheesy themes. I hate one-centers, five-centres and most of all jackpot links. I hate your hypnotic pull. I hate your tall stools and the sticky floor at your feet. I hate your hungry belly, gorging on a mortgage, two mortgages, countless dollars. I hate the trance you put on the zombies around you. I hate your credit card slots. I hate your smoking area. I hate the hole you made in my family. I hate that we stare at each other, waiting for something to happen. I hate hiding good fortune. I hate the lies and the sneaking and the shame and the guilt and the desperation that you have brought to our lives, that wasn't there before. I hate the magic tricks done with jewellery. I hate the guilt-gifts following a big win. I hate the darkness of a losing streak.

Dear Clubs and Pokie-owning Companies,
I hate you. I hate your incentive points, your VIP lounges, your car giveaways. I hate your free fucking nuts and coffee. I hate your cinema with attendants who don't mind the unattended children. I hate your conveniently located ATMs. I hate your name on my bank statement from days I was at school. I hate your ads showing happy, carefree folk. I hate your community fucking spirit and sporting donations. I hate your courtesy bus and your many disabled parking spaces. I hate your two-dollar roast lunch on Wednesdays. I hate your fancy renovations masquerading as making more room for pokies. I hate your disappearing family-friendly areas. I will not eat in your bistro or drink at your bar, no matter how many sprinkles you put on the free ice cream with kid's meals. I will not shop at your supermarket, no matter how many books you buy for my son's school. You have already taken more than your share from me.

Dear Tim Freedman,
I wish I could, too.


Dear X,
I love you. I know your strength, and I believe in you. Please stop.

Dear anyone struggling with gambling,
Your people love you. Please get help.
http://www.problemgamblingguide.com/find_help_-_australia.html
http://www.gamblinghelponline.org.au/

growing things: winter plantings

Over our lovely weekend, one of the tasks achieved was to establish a little kitchen garden. My knowledge of gardening for food is a little slapdash, but we are giving it a go.

The organic grocer at the market was also selling veggie seedlings, so I bought a lovely selection, including snow peas, sugar snap peas, wombok, bok choy, lettuce, carrots, coriander and flat parsley.

The spot in the garden must have been a veggie garden, once upon a time. There are a couple of happy strawberry plants, rosemary and curly parsley, already there. Oh, and Percy.

We stopped at the nursery for advice and compost, then came home and began digging.

I had two potatoes that had sprouted, so we threw them in a mound of dirt and compost in another section of the garden. I have no idea if anything will come of this, but my boys are so obsessed with the storybook The Potato People, we just had to try.

After all our hard work I felt I should do some research about what I had planted. I found an excellent website, which informed me which climate we live in (handy!) and gives a month-by-month list of what to plant. You can even subscribe to have email reminders sent, telling you to get those plants in! Check out Gardenate here!
Are you a kitchen gardener? What are you planting or harvesting in August?

weekends are for...

kite-flying

apple pie jam-making

new-old toy cleaning

sorting

hills hoist-drying

receiving

swinging

garden tea-drinking

and gathering. This week from Avoca Beach Grower's Market. $26 for (all organic and local) spinach (silverbeet), leeks, dutch cream potatoes, iceburg lettuce, baby bok choy, coriander, a red capsicum, six fat carrots, a head of broccoli and some snow peas. Two big punnets strawberries from Windsor $13. Granny Smiths and Pink Ladies from Batlow $6 per bag of 8.

What was your weekend for?

in season: arancello two ways

While orange passion cordial will be fine for the kids, I have a big summer planned. My bestie and I have been alternately pregnant and/or breastfeeding for the past seven years. Our youngest, final babies have both said bye-bye-booby in the past month, so preparations are now in place for many a fine summer's evening swilling fancy cocktails like ladies. Or something.

This should be a nice Christmas treat: Arancello. It's like limoncello, only with oranges, apparently. I've put two jars down, one spiced and one plain. I found a good technique and base recipe here. Then I found inspiration for a lovely spiced version here.  This is what I did:

In a big jar with a good seal, combine the following:
The zest and strained juice of four oranges
2 cups vodka
1 cup sugar

Shake daily for a week, to dissolve the sugar. Then shake weekly, resting in a cool dark place for at least 6 weeks. As long as you can stand to leave it, the better the flavours will be. Strain and chill well before serving.

For the festive spicy version, I added
1 vanilla pod
3 cardamon pods
2 cloves
1 cinnamon stick

Hoping it will taste as good as it smells!

What's your favourite festive tipple? Are you getting ready for a handmade Christmas yet?

in season: orange passion cordial

When Catherine suggested a cordial recipe for oranges in season, I thought well that's not going to happen. My darling loves cordial, but I'm not a fan. I don't buy it, he tries to sneak a bottle in over summer. The kids don't even really know what it is. I looked at my eleventy-billion oranges and the three questionable passionfruit in the fruit bowl and wondered if I could make orange and passionfruit cordial?

A quick goggle search yet again informed me that I am the inventor of nothing.

Ta Da!

Impressive, no? And it was easy-peasy.

Grab this:
1 tablespoon finely grated orange rind

1 1/2 cups orange juice

4 passionfruit, halved

2 teaspoons citric acid
1 1/2 cups caster sugar


Do this:   1. Combine 3 cups cold water, orange rind, orange juice, passionfruit pulp, citric acid and sugar in a saucepan over medium-high heat. Bring to the boil. Boil for 10 minutes or until mixture has reduced slightly. Strain into a heatproof jug. Pour into hot, sterilised bottles and seal. Refrigerate until chilled.
2. To serve: Use 1/3 cup cordial to 1/2 cup chilled sparkling mineral water or iced water.

I only had three passionfruits.

If you can find someone handsome to help out with the juicing, all the better.

Bubble, bubble.

Straining the pips.

The oranges were full of the most delicious juice, the colour of the cordial ended up really vivid! It's just biding its time in the fridge for some warmer weather.

Was cordial a big part of your childhood?

in season: choc-orange self-saucing pudding

Oranges are a lovely friend for chocolate. Case in point: jaffas.

I've adapted my favourite recipe for Chocolate Self-Saucing Pudding (from an old Family Circle book called Comfort Food) to add a left hook of orange flavour. Because whilst I love chocolate, my love for chocolate and orange together is, well, indecent.

Grab this:
1 orange
60 grams butter, melted
1 cup self raising flour
3Tbs cocoa
1/2 cup caster sugar
1 egg, beaten
1/2 cup milk
1 cup brown sugar

Do this:
1. Preheat oven to 180 degrees Celsius. Brush ovenproof dish with melted butter.
2. Sift flour and 1 Tbs of cocoa into a bowl (or, if you are me, don't bother sifting because it makes you feel naughty). Mix in caster sugar.
3. Mix the zest of the orange, egg, butter and milk in a jug. Stir mixture into flour mixture, make sure there are no lumps. Pop the batter into your dish. Stick the kettle on.
4. Mix the brown sugar and the remainder of the cocoa in a little bowl. Sprinkle, sprinkle over the batter.
5. Juice the orange and put the juice into a measuring jug. Once the kettle has boiled, top up the juice to make 1 1/2 cups. Carefully pour the liquid, over the back of a spoon, onto the batter.
6. Pop it in the oven for 30-40mins.
7. Serve with cream and/or ice cream. You should put dibs on the corners, they are the best bits.

in season: spiced orange roasted chicken

I cooked this recipe for the first time back when I had no clue as to what turmeric and cumin were. I've come a long way, baby. It was in a Super Food Ideas magazine, and can be found on Taste.

Grab this:
1.2kg chicken thigh fillets
1/3 cup fresh orange juice
1/3 cup honey
2 tsp olive oil
2 garlic cloves, crushed
2 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground turmeric
1 orange, thinly sliced

Do this:
1. Place the chicken in an ovenproof dish. Add the orange juice, honey, oil, garlic, coriander, cumin and turmeric and gently toss until combined. Season with salt and pepper. Cover with plastic wrap and place in the fridge for 1 hour to marinate.


2. Put the kettle on. Preheat oven to 180°C. Use the water in the kettle to make a cuppa. Place the orange over the top of the chicken. Roast in the oven, basting with pan juices, for 45 minutes or until golden and cooked through. Go outside and play with your kids while dinner is cooking. Place on a serving platter.


In the interests of more ethical eating, next time I will make this with a whole chook, pieced. It will just take a bit longer to cook with the bones in. I served this up with some roast vegetable cous cous, and some carrots from the farm gate that looked like little people, trying to run away. I threw a handful of torn up coriander leaves through the cous cous and over the chicken, I made sure I had dibs on the oranges, which went kind of jammy and sweet.

Do you have a main meal recipe that stars a citrus fruit?

a conundrum of ethic proportions

I knew, deep down, when we made the decision to move from the suburbs to the sea, that such a move would involve big changes.

And it really has. We welcomed new life and love to our family. I started thinking about living more simply, buying more consciously, and began twelve months of meaningful giving. I even learned how to make my own deoderant.

But in the days that have followed our lovely excursion on the farm gate trail, I've been struggling to come to terms with the truth, and feasability, of ethical consumption. I finished off my shopping, as per normal today. I did the groceries at the sort-of-local BiLo. I gave myself a mental pat on the back as I popped organic raw sugar into my trolley, over my usual store-brand raw sugar. Well done me, so ethical. So mindful.

During the quiet unpacking moment in my day (OK, I haven't put the pantry stuff away yet, my attention was diverted when I smashed a jar of anchovies all over the floor), I picked up the packet of sugar. Australian Certified Organic, the front reads. Then I read the back. And got pissed off. Packaged in Australia from imported ingredients. I understand the rule of reading the fine print, I really do. But the Australian certification kind of gave me the feeling that this was a local product. I should also note that I made the choice to buy this sugar because it was only slightly more expensive that my regular buy. I didn't buy organic flour, because it was easily more than double the price.

Then we popped into the butcher. I've been shopping there weekly for about 3 months now. Every week I tell myself I am going to ask about the source of the meat I am buying. And every week I chicken out. I feel like there would be something offensive in me saying So can you tell me about where the animals are raised? What are the conditions like? And I know these are valid questions, but in my head I just sound narky. So I ended up buying way less than I normally do, as if that compensates for thrusting my head firmy into the sand.

Off to the fruit and veggie shop, which I love. A small, independently owned shop, with beautiful produce. I only needed apples and coriander after our lovely haul from the farm gates, but I grabbed a punnet of strawberries as a treat for my two smalls, who were doing a really nice job of behaving like humans. As we polished off three quarters of a punnet, I noticed that the delicious strawberries were from North Queensland. That little treat travelled (conservatively) 900kms. That's from the farm to my place, without travelling to a wholesaler or market first. Oh.

The thing is, I don't know about this stuff. I grew up in the suburbs, with parents who did their absolute best to feed, clothe, shelter and educate a large family on a limited budget. Here are some words I never heard around the dinner table growing up: ethical, organic, biodynamic, free-range, food miles. I don't recall eating a single vegetarian meal throughout my childhood. That's not to say my parents didn't do an awesome job- we were raised on simple, healthy food. Watching my mum cook gave me the gift of being able to pull a meal together using a few questionable zucchini and a packet of pasta whatever I have at hand.

Each question seems to uncover yet more questions. I don't feel like I'll ever get to the bottom of these issues, and how they relate to the choices I make. And even if I do get to the bottom of it all, what if we just can't afford to make the most ethical choice every time? If I make some ethical choices, where we can, does that just make me a 'weekend greenie'? I know that I am certainly going to keep on digging. I unearthed this article today, and it helped me focus my thinking a little. Whilst the list of things that just seem too hard seems to grow with the more I find out, there are some things I can do. The weekend's excursion showed me that we can get a good range of fruit and veg direct from the grower. It does involve an hour-and-a-half round trip, so we'll have to factor that into our week, somewhere. I can minimise the amount of meat we are eating, while I investigate ethical practices and look at where to source. I can choose organic, but I feel more inclined to buy local than to buy organic imports. I can keep reading stories from other parents asking the same questions, challenging themselves to feed their families in an ethical way. So many are so much further along this road than I am, I'm grateful to be able to follow along their journeys, too.