On Gaining an Understanding of Connectivity, Pocketbooks and People

We don’t have a lot of extra money. Sure, we get by. LB and I have some savings now, finally, which is nice – because for a long time, we didn’t. We basically lived life paycheck to paycheck, and for the most part still do (for when you make more, you spend more...and it always seems that life throws some unexpected expenses your way, like broken down cars or moving to a very expensive island in five weeks!), and that’s with two jobs. Each.

Yet, I can still justify (to myself, mind you, as LB is a sweetheart and doesn’t say anything about it) buying a gourmet food item here and there or a nice bottle of wine when I come across one I like. I buy high-quality food for our meals, mostly organic, and I’ll pay more for local ingredients too, especially if the humble farmer is willing to deliver organic eggs to our doorstep or sells us incredibly delicious hormone-free free-range pork like the gorgeous entire tenderloin we got recently from him:

This means that nearly as large a portion of our budget goes to food as it does to rent (yikes!). We have been known to buy wine to compliment a meal we’ll be having (usually on the recommendation of a very competent wine guru whom I completely trust), have spent upwards of $25 on appetizers (which we enjoyed thoroughly and completely, by ourselves, and “just because”), and I’ll often impulsively buy ingredients (or wine) at food festivals simply because they are there and I just might never see them again. All of this for one day (or meal) to be shared eating, drinking, and laughing. And you know what?

It’s worth it.

Do we have the extra money? Sort-of. We do each have two jobs. So, you could say we treat ourselves occasionally. But then again, the car needs fixed, there’s the move looming soon (very soon – another yikes!) in the future, there’s debt to be paid off and retirement to start saving for...so should we be spending our extra money? No. Could we spend less or settle for less? Probably. Will we? No...not while we’re in Eugene, anyhow (Hawaii might be a different story). I’ve tried to reason why this might be... why we might be so willing to spend our limited funds on food? Food is transient – you eat it, it’s gone. Some of it is wasted (think of those vegetables sitting in the crisper...). Is it the taste of the food? Is it a fear of what goes into our bodies? Is it a desire to spend, spend, spend, consume, consume, consume? No, no, no...well, maybe a little yes on the question of taste and pesticide-laden foods, but for the most part: No. What is it then?

It’s the experience.

It’s the connection with each other and with other people. The connection shared with our friends and family at the table, over a glass of wine or some incredible cheese – elbows up, smiles and laughter all around. It’s the connection with the people that sold the food to us, with the land and the farmers that grew it - many we have met here and many we know share the same soil and the same practices and philosophies as we do - and the hands and hard work that created it. It’s the romantic notions of how an amazing meal should unfold - not necessarily how it’s “supposed” to be in the imagination of Martha Stewart or Miss Manners (ie. perfectly folded napkins, fine china, proper couture...), but the idea that when we have that wine again or that cheese or that chestnut stuffing some Thanksgiving down the road, it will recall the memory of all the connected experiences once more...that we might remember the encounter of buying the food or wine, the shared familiarity of eating it... and it's the belief that later, we might just gain a few extra moments of happiness from that day, even though it is in the past.

Human beings are blessed with memories – we are the only creatures that live in our past as much as our present. The memories of the people we have known, of history and of places we have been, of things that make our hearts sing and our mouths speechless – these are all a huge part of who we are and the stories we share with others. Take wine tasting, for example. The adventure of traveling to the hills of the Willamette Valley, the whole experience of sipping, of quiet afternoons spent talking (sometimes about the wine, most of the time not) and gazing out across the grape vines. And the way a bottle in the wine rack at home calls forth the memory of being there. You just can’t get that when you buy a box of wine at your local convenience store or similarly, from an out-of-season, perfectly round, cardboard tomato at the grocery store (not that I haven’t bought my own fair share of those, of course).

You see, I buy more when I connect with the people who are selling me the food or wine. It’s not because I’m tipsy and thus looser with my money (well, I keep telling myself that). It’s not because I’m rich and have the money to spend (I don't). It’s because I so enjoyed the experience of being there and of talking to a certain tasting room manager about the Library of Congress releasing the Years of Bounty exhibit that I ended up with that $25 bottle of 2004 Pinot Noir from High Pass Vineyards (and oh yes, I have ended up with far more expensive bottles of wine other times and at other places, each one unique not only in taste but in memories) that I won’t be going out for a movie the end of this month, or that my savings is more meager than might be thought respectable at almost 30 years of age. But do I care right now? No. Will I later? Perhaps. But the memories will be what I remember, and I would never trade those for more money.

When I think of the people and places that I will miss the most when leave here and move to Hawaii in 5 short weeks, I realize that for the most part they are all connected to food or wine. My closest friends and I have spent an incredible number nights sharing bottles of wine together, my winery friends are near and dear to my heart, and the places I will miss the most are the farmer's market, the restaurants, and the food stores where I have spent so much time over the last several years – getting to know the proprietors, the bartenders, the waitresses and the farmers. Not to mention the incredible local ingredients...hazelnuts, chanterelles, wild salmon, and so many more (and Pinot – oh God, they don’t make Pinot in Hawaii!). At least there will be new and wonderful people and things to explore, and I do find solace (and excitement) in that.

Ultimately, I think that food and wine are as much about people as they are about taste – people eating, drinking, talking, blogging, telling stories and connecting with each other. The people I share food with (or the experience of making it or buying it) are what make it all worthwhile. I think that’s why I fell in love with all things culinary, with blogging, and with my job at the winery. Because truly, when it comes down to it, Life is really all about the people we share it with.


This is a recipe for a roasted fresh ham (ie. a "ham," or pork leg roast, that has not been cured). The recipe is simple, easy and pretty enough to serve to company so that you can enjoy those precious moments (or hours) at the table with the people you adore. The pork leg roast came from Paul Atkinson, who owns and runs Laughing Stock Farm locally. The pigs were cared for with love and respect, and it shines through in the meat...it's the best pork you can find in Eugene, in my opinion, and we've been buying meat and fresh eggs from Paul (who graciously delivers everything to our doorstep) for over two years now. There's nothing like it, and I will most certainly miss it when we leave!

Roasted Fresh Ham with Onion Jus, serves 6
**amounts are approximate, so use your intuition too!

1 fresh pork leg roast (approx. 2-3 lbs)
1 tbsp. salt
several grinds of fresh pepper
1 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp dry rubbed sage
2 tsp herbs de provence
2 cups dry white wine
1 cup water
1 large sweet onion, thickly sliced

Preheat the oven to 425 F. Rinse the pork and pat it dry (thoroughly dry) with paper towels. Carve diagonal lines into the fat cap on top of the pork roast approximately 1 inch apart - you can do this both directions to make a diamond pattern (like I did), but it's not necessary. Try not to carve into the meat! Place the sliced onions in the bottom of a roasting dish or pan. Mix the herbs, salt, pepper and olive oil in a small bowl to form a sort of wet paste, then rub the paste into the meat on all sides and place it in the roasting dish on top of the onions. Pour 1/2 cup of the wine and 1/2 cup of the water into the bottom of the dish.

Put the roasting dish in the oven and roast for 30 minutes at 425F. Turn the oven down to 350F, and roast for approximately 1.5 hours more (or until the internal temperature reaches about 155F), turning it around once and putting a sheet of foil over the top of the roast if it begins to burn (ours didn't). As the wine and water evaporate, add the rest of each to the bottom of the pan and baste the roast occasionally to keep it most.

Remove the roast to a plate and cover it with foil, letting it rest for about 20 minutes before slicing. Meanwhile, pour the juices and onions into a small saucepan and let it simmer gently until it reduces and begins to thicken - you can also blend a few of the onions into the sauce to make it thicker or add a bit of arrowroot or cornstarch in some stock if you want a heartier sauce. Enjoy!