I’m into my 15th week or so of my farm share. Since I last mentioned it here, we’ve also bought into a fish share from a cooperative in Gloucester, Massachusetts. Besides providing me with a new appreciation of where my food comes from, I’ve had to add to my repertoire of recipes—in addition to the encounters with unfamiliar vegetables, the sheer volume of produce delivered each week has forced me to be inventive with even those items from the farm that are familiar.

Recipes are often included in the email that tells you what to expect in a particular pickup—the fish share email even tells you which boat caught your supper. Though we’ve received a different kind of fish each week—ever heard of dab?—it is usually some type of groundfish, like cod or haddock, so I’ve tried to vary the preparation. (Because we get the fish within 24 hours of it being caught, I think I see a ceviche in our future.)

Speaking with the folks from whom I pick up my shares has given me some insight into the problems—and joys—of being on the frontlines of the human end of the food chain. It also makes the connection between food provider and eater a personal one.

Come November—when my farm share stops—I will be in serious withdrawal from the fresh bounty I’ve become accustomed to getting each week. Thank goodness it’ll start again next June.

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