March / April 2004

Many moons ago I spent a summer in the Dordogne, a region in south-central France known for its Romanesque churches, prehistoric cave paintings and truffles. It was also the place where I learned what a peach is supposed to taste like.

I lived in a hamlet of four houses, one mile from a village with two butchers (remember them?), within easy driving distance of any number of other villages, each with an open market day where local farmers would come in with their just-picked produce, fresh fish, and cages of live rabbits and chickens. Trudging back later to the parking lot with the now-overstuffed filet (a traditional French shopping bag), I always felt like the bearer of exquisite little jewels. Just what were these huge red-and-white-podded beans that I had just bought? Never mind that I was clueless about how to cook them.

Peaches and apricots were particular treasures, sometimes so delectably ripe I purchased them by the case. Since I was living with my small children plus a friend and her child, the fruit was always eaten before the last one could spoil.

The following summer I was back in Chicago and couldn’t wait for peaches and apricots to appear at the supermarket, but when they did, I was stunned. Rock hard, bitter, dry—even ripening them in a brown paper bag could only do so much. Today, I seldom buy them, even when they’re allegedly “in season.” Why waste my money?

Surely all of us want to eat food that tastes good and is safe, but we have been so battered down by the available choices that we just end up settling for second rate. But we don’t have to. In this issue, we visit Ron and Vicki Nowicki, organic suburban gardeners for whom good-tasting, safe food has long been paramount. Now they have taken the next step of trying to live according to the seasons and eating only produce they’ve grown themselves. While this is not feasible for everyone, all of us could grow more of our own food if we so choose. In so doing, we would discover anew how tomatoes, carrots, green beans, strawberries—and even peaches—really taste. It’s easier than moving to France.