I’m going to keep posting these until my ridiculous enthusiasm wears down. I feel like it’s the sort of thing I’ll look back on fondly one day, either impressed by my industriousness or amused by the pretentiousness of this foodie folly. It also kind of reminds me of one of my favorite blogs, Stuff White People Like. Because, really, ramps?
If you’d asked me a few months ago about garlic mustard, I’d have answered, “Yes, please, sounds delicious!”
But now, six months into my new life as a non-urban dweller, I know better. The garlic mustard plant is an invasive species – remember when they were just called weeds? – that drives local gardeners and landscapers crazy, overtaking just about every other kind of plant in its wake. My husband spent much of the weekend trying to pull out all the garlic mustard growing around our house, filling four huge garbage bags, and barely making a dent. By Sunday evening, he was exhausted and pretty frustrated.
“It’s everywhere I look,” he said. “It’s like I’ll be seeing it in my sleep.”
I felt for him; I really did. And when I thought about it, I realized it was because so much of my life as a mom is garlic mustard.
I’m no good at moderation. When I fall for things, I fall hard. And so it is with our CSA. Community Supported Agriculture is BIG around these parts—something about the foodie culture of Madison, combined with the propinquity of actual farms—and it’s just exactly the sort of thing that I can get really obsessive over.