How I Spent My Summer Vacation

A change is as good as a rest. That's what my Dad says and it's true. The New Ground Cafe' closes each July to undergo renovations and for its chef/owner (me!)to enjoy a shift in scenery. There was still plenty of time spent in the kitchen, due to a wild array of catering jobs that I just couldn't resist. Being the concession at the Fulton Farm music weekend was a treat. The veggie burgers were a hit! Then the wedding of two good friends at the restaurant. Congratulations Shane and Jenny! A joyful in-home dinner for a couple celebrating their 40th anniversary. Two days of lunches for farmers on field tours and a trip to Saskatoon to feed the Saskatchewan Pulse Growers.

But freed from the daily routine of prep, dishes and cleaning, I had time to plan, dream and roam. One evening in mid July found me in Debbie McLeod's garden near Fenton, about 10 km from Birch Hills. She provides the New Ground Cafe' with all its herbs, dried and fresh. Debbie is as passionate about what she grows as I am about what I cook. As we squelched through the recently rained upon, rich, dark soil, my excitement grew while Debbie talked.

"Look at the Bull's Blood!" she'd exclaim, "The birds are enjoying it, but there's still lots for you. We'll have a tonne of celery soon. How much can you use? What about fenugreek? Oh, this cilantro is just out of control! Would you like some chives? And see, the lemongrass is doing well in these pots."

Yes, she's growing lemongrass in Saskatchewan. I use it to flavour my chokecherry lemonade and in my Thai-inspired chicken noodle soup.

I trailed Debbie, eating everything she pointed at. Basil, borage, chocolate mint, lemon balm, anise, caraway, curry leaf, oregano, thyme, lemon verbena-I was a grazing fool. Then, after a leisurely cup of tea, I headed home with a full vehicle and an idea for supper. Lightly steamed beet greens tossed with toasted garlic, canola oil, sea salt and smoked cayenne over spaghetti.

This is the life. Spending actual time with the people who grow my food. And with the food itself. When Debbie drops off produce during regular restaurant hours, it's often a friendly but rushed interaction. I listen while she explains what she's brought, but my mind is also on the bannock in the oven, the party of two who've just sat down at the reserved table for 10 and whether the pulled beef will be tender by noon. That July night, I could focus on Debbie's amazing talent for coaxing such goodness from a fleeting growing season. And instead of getting the greens into a soup as quick as my hands could move, I celebrated them. And after the meal, I tipped my plate and drank the garlicky, spicy, puddle-coloured broth as a toast. To the bounty of summer, the hard work of those who grow and harvest and to the joy of taking time to taste.