Food, Glorious Food!

Spring is finally winning out over the long winter season here at the lake. We took a brisk walk in the woods and noticed tiny leaves starting to pop and ferns beginning to uncoil their fiddleheads along our path. A walk in the woods is always a great chance for us to catch up on our day and talk about whatever’s on our minds.

One topic up for discussion was the theme for this blog post. Writing has always been something I enjoy—hence the blog—but finding that spark of inspiration can sometimes be a challenge. So, as we walked, Marc and I did a little brainstorming. I posed the question: “Why is food so important to me? Why does it occupy my mind so much?”

Quite simply: Why is it my passion?

I’ve come to realize that it wasn’t one moment but a lifetime of touchpoints and influences that sparked my culinary curiosity. One of those memories was the anticipation of Sunday afternoon dinners that my mom would carefully prepare and serve as one of the most important meals of the week. We’d eat mid-afternoon, usually between 1 and 3 p.m., that was our tradition—and my mom would pour all her energy into that one meal so we could sit around the table and enjoy it as a family.

I looked forward to it every week. Grocery shopping with my mom often gave me a preview of what was to come. Because I was with her, I got the insider scoop—and sometimes I even influenced the menu entirely. Being involved meant everything. I’d help in the kitchen on Sunday mornings, and one of the first meals I learned to cook was roast chicken. To this day, I still love making that dish, now elevated with skills I’ve gained from a lifetime of cooking—and from my time at The French Culinary Institute.

So many other memories—especially the repeated exposure to non-traditional American food—have shaped my palate. Around Easter, for example, my mom would always celebrate with Polish food, sourced from local Polish markets.

The coat of arms of the Republic of Poland

Pierogies, kielbasa, sauerkraut, babka, stuffed cabbage rolls, and poppy seed cake—all prepared by babushka-wearing women from the old country. The hearty simplicity of Polish food was pure comfort growing up, and I’ve missed it so much.

I love the snap of garlicky kielbasa—still warm—layered on rye bread with spicy brown mustard. It’s a simple sandwich. The craving hit hard recently, and I found myself on a mission to track down authentic Polish food and I discovered Polana. Today, my order arrived: pierogi, kielbasa, and real Polish rye bread. With all that nostalgia in the air, lunch was everything I hoped for—and more.

Market Days

Far from the jolt of NYC’s rapid pace, we’ve embraced the slowness of rural living and the quiet solitude of winter at the lake. The flurries and wisps of snow circle in the wind, creating swirling patterns like broad brushstrokes on a frozen canvas. The soaring pines are laden with branches cradling white parcels from the latest storm, while the ground is covered in a plush carpet of freshly fallen snow. When the sun decides to appear, the sky unveils a deep yet soft blue, cutting against the landscape of bare trees and clouds that look like meringue fluff.

Living in mid-Michigan has been a wonderful experience for us. Now, in our sixth year here, we’ve reflected on how our lives have changed, our perspectives refocused, and our routines evolved.

When we lived in Brooklyn, I had the luxury of deciding what to prepare for dinner on a whim. I could simply walk to the grocer, butcher, or specialty market after work. Now, planning meals requires more thought, along with a well-stocked pantry, refrigerator, and freezer. Since our nearest major supermarket is 40 minutes away, we carefully plan those excursions, bundling them with a myriad of other errands.

Vintage ShopRite logo used 1951 - 1975

I’ve held on to a nostalgic set of memories when it comes to supermarkets. As a child, I loved tagging along with my mom on trips to ShopRite in Hasbrouck Heights, NJ. With a family of six, grocery shopping was a weekly event—usually on a Friday evening after my mom's work day or as a Saturday morning outing. That ShopRite will always hold a special place in my heart and sadly the location has been redeveloped. Those trips were more than a means to an end; they were treasured one-on-one moments with my mom, weekly adventures filled with anticipation, and an introduction to the necessity of meal planning.

The possibilities for good food felt endless as we pushed our cart through the produce, bakery, and meat departments. My mom would always opt for seasonal ingredients and ask my opinion on what to make for the family. I felt grown-up and important, actively contributing to the weekly menu at Chez Ramos.

Each turn of the aisle was intentional. I don’t remember my mom ever keeping a list—unlike me these days! It was all in her head. She’d say, “Let’s not forget to get some good canned tomatoes for Sunday's sauce, and be sure to check the meat counter for Italian braciole!” My mom never rushed through the store, and that’s why I still take my time when I shop. I am eager to be inspired by the ingredients, to make the best choices, and—most importantly—not to forget anything essential. There’s no quick trip back once we’re home.

On the occasions when I shop alone, I’m never in a rush. I have my detailed list, and a feeling of calm blankets my thoughts and the sense of endless opportunities await me at the turn of every aisle. I imagine my mom tagging along in spirit, nudging me not to forget the good canned tomatoes, just as she did all those years ago—when a trip to the supermarket felt like an adventure filled with anticipation and the promise of delicious meals to come.

If you ate today, please thank a farmer!

As many of you know, last year I started in a new role at a nonprofit. I'd been searching for a position where I could merge my skills in nonprofit development and my love of food. Someone was listening and I secured a job with the Real Organic Project.

So, I wanted to share my story and express the profound impact that this organization has had on how I think about food. And I would be remiss if I didn't extend gratitude for my colleagues at the Real Organic Project for generously sharing their farming experiences with me since I joined the team last year as Development Director. Everyone at the organization from my co-directors to the certification team are all current or former farmers and their experiences have enriched me. My 15 years of experience in nonprofit management and development, coupled with my skills as a classically-trained chef, contribute a unique perspective to our programs.

For me, "Food is Love" is more than a mantra; it is a guiding principle. Throughout my life, the significance of real food, family meals, and celebrating life's milestones around the table left an indelible mark on my appreciation of growing your own food and the transformative power of cooking. The Real Organic Project has not only deepened my understanding of organic farming but has also provided me with an intensive education. Now, as I dedicate myself to fundraising for our programs, I am constantly reminded of the challenges faced by hardworking farmers dealing with unpredictable weather, market access, and financial instability.

The complexities of our food system, the hurdles organic farmers face against Big Ag's greenwashing, and confusing food marketing have opened my eyes. I am motivated to delve deeper into these issues and advocate for what is right, just, and honest.

I’ve had the distinct pleasure to meet many of the farmers represented by the Real Organic Project label. I have deep respect for their value system, their grit, and most importantly their integrity to grow food in healthy soils and their humane care for animals on well-managed pastures.

I am profoundly passionate about our mission. If more eaters were aware of the flaws in our food system and how big Ag companies care more about profits over people then we would have a renewed organic movement, change would occur—one farm and one eater at a time. While we are making progress, time is of the essence, and we need to intensify our efforts.

I encourage you to engage in conversations with family and friends, support local farming, and explore Real Organic Project's website for a wealth of resources. If you are so motivated please subscribe to our Sunday letters, join the Real Friends book club, and listen to the weekly podcasts, all of these actions can make a significant impact. Whether it's just asking your grocery store for Real Organic Project labeled food, hosting a fundraiser, or organizing a screening party of our latest symposium, small changes and genuine activism can create a ripple effect - and it all starts with you. And, if you are so inclined to contribute - I'd be greatly appreciative!

I am also so grateful to my dedicated Co-directors, Linley Dixon and Dave Chapman, for providing me with the opportunity to grow within this vibrant community. Each day, I learn more about the challenges faced by farmers, and I focus on raising funds to propel our certification and educational programs forward. Working with our committed team and engaging with our community of donors and farm partners is a privilege. As we collectively strive for more integrity, equity, and transparency in our food system - I can't think of a more rewarding job.

Together, we can all champion a better food system with a guiding mantra that food is love!