The World Looks Better in Green

The world looks better in green. And I’m not talking about being in the jungles of Costa Rica rather than the snowy Arctic Circle—although that would be a definite improvement too. No, I’m talking about food.

Dr. Seuss had it right. Green in a diet is the way to go. Although, I don't think green eggs is a very good idea. Salmonella comes to mind. But green vegetables rock! In fact, produce of any kind is enough to cause a stampede in these parts.

We got a phone call today saying that the local grocery store had just gotten in a shipment of fruit, vegetables, and eggs. Around these parts, that’s as good as yelling “Gold!” And you know what happens in Alaska when there’s a gold strike. But those early miners had nothing on a bunch of Alaska Bush teachers chasing after apples and carrots. It was most exciting.

In fact, I was so caught up in the thrill of it all, that my brain turned to mush. Not a thought was processing right. It was beautiful outside! It was promising spring! I half expected robins to start singing in the bare treetops—at which point they would instantly fall out of said treetops, frozen stiff. But still—it was beautiful outside!

So when Keri ran home and revved up the snow machine, Taco and I raced out and jumped on—in clothing fit for a day at the beach. Well, maybe not the beach—but certainly not for our terrain either. Knowing that we were going to be running full throttle over the frozen Yukon River amid unending fields of snow and ice—you’d think it would have occurred to me that maybe gloves and a hat would be a good idea. But NO! I was sucked in by the misleading image of a sun in the sky. By the time we got to the store, I was a popsicle. Frozen through.

Keri and Taco

But not to fear. Just the sight of that glorious produce was enough to warm me from head to toe. It was lovely! An entire portable tabletop holding nothing but boxes of big fat onions, withered potatoes, brown spotted bananas, beautiful red apples and bruised yellow ones, soft mushy oranges, pale green broccoli, hard green pears wrapped in paper, and a single kiwi.

Taco grabbed that kiwi up real fast. It was a steal at only $2.00. And we filled our little carry basket with some of everything. It was heavenly!

But that wasn’t all. In the back of the store, I discovered a stash of lettuce in the cooler next to the eggs. Of course, there was a bunch of slimy stuff on the outside leaves. But I did find one head that only had a slime spot about the size of a golf ball—so I snatched it up.
Taco pointed to the spot and said, “Uh…Mom?”
Keri said, “That’s OK. We can toss the outside leaves.”
I looked at him like he had suddenly grown two heads. “Are you nuts? We can just cut that spot off. The rest of the leaf will be fine!”
Yup, this place sure changes what you're willing to put up with.

And next to the lettuce were the last two zucchinis. I just ignored the price as we dropped them in our basket. During zucchini season down south, you can hardly give them away. But those two prolific squash cost almost $6 each!

Last summer, my mom had a newspaper article hanging on her fridge for quite some time, and it entertained whoever happened to wander into the kitchen. It was about a woman in Montana who chased a bear away by beating it over the head with a zucchini. That must have been some squash! Babe Ruth could have used a bat like that. Well, our two $6 wonders are definitely not in the club category. Any self-respecting bear would laugh out loud if we tried to chase it away with those things. In fact, forget hitting the bear over the head--those slivers of squash are so small, I am sure they would fit up the bear’s nose. But when I cook them up tomorrow, they are going to taste wonderful!

By the time we were finished at that little store, we had three-and-a-half plastic grocery bags of mostly produce. And the cost? A mere $95.70. But at least we get to eat green for a while!

picture of our little village store

Alaska's Bounties

Alaska sure has its bounties. Of course, those come at a price.

For example—we decided that if we are going to survive this experience, we had better start eating better. So we placed a produce order with Full Circle Farms. They are a lovely business of green houses and artificial light that grows produce year round. And they ship out orders via the bush planes. Well, the other day, we had our first order delivered to our door. There is a village agent here—a guy who picks up the mail and any packages from the planes and takes them to the post office or the school. And he’s a nice guy. If he thinks a package might be really expensive or important, or might be damaged if it got frozen, he’ll drop it off right at your door. There are some people in life you will do almost anything to stay on their good side. He is at the top of that list.

So, we got our box of produce. In it was a head of lettuce, some Swiss chard, a small stalk of celery, a bunch of green onions, a very small head of broccoli, a nice sized orange pepper, three tiny purple onions, two smallish grapefruit, three apples, four tiny tangerines, a lime-green mango, about eight of the tiniest red potatoes I’d ever seen (with a combined weight of a single russet), and a small (lip gloss sized) jar of fennel & salt. And we were THRILLED! It’s not very often that a house breaks into dance over produce. The cost of that little treasure chest? A mere $67.50. Yup. In the lower 48 we would have had a very difficult time finding the same stuff, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen it sold that small. But if you just went by weight, we could have gotten the same thing for under five bucks. Three if you shopped the sales. But at least we get to eat fresh green stuff for a day or two.

But to make things even more exciting in a “declare it a public holiday” sort of way, Keri and Taco went moose hunting that afternoon—and GOT A MOOSE!!!!! Not only did they get a moose, but on the way back, they almost ran into another one with the snow machine. Moose were out in abundance that night!

A friend of Keri’s, a local by the name of George (though everyone calls him Boise for some unfathomable reason) took them hunting. Showed Keri where he goes to get his moose every year. Yup. This guy has the monopoly on meese—mooses—miisen—those really big things that look like a giant ugly donkey—and he was willing to share. That is one nice friend.

Judging by our past serious lack of success in the hunting department, I really didn’t expect much from the trip. (We are great at trapping rabbits, but had struck out with moose.) So I armed them with toe and hand warmers (those things you put in your boots and gloves so you can carry your own personal heater into the great outdoors while you pretend to rough it). And I humiliated Taco by screaming, “Hey—where’s your hat?!” at the top of my pneumonia-strained lungs. (I had a hard time being heard over the snow machine engine.) Apparently, they were just driving in a circle to make sure the sled was secure. He still had to come inside to finish getting decked out for the trip.

Anyway, when I heard the snow machine pull up front several hours later, I figured their toe and hand warmers had run out of steam or something. I was shocked to see a moose being drug behind in the sled! At first, I thought maybe they had just run into an ugly donkey—like road kill or something. But nope, it was an honest-to-goodness moose. And Keri and Taco were proud as punch!

Personally, I had a hard time looking. I remember being traumatized as a child the time my dad went deer hunting. For weeks, our bedtime story had been several pages out of the novel Bambi. We were convinced shooting animals was a sin.

When it comes to getting meat, I think I prefer picking up nameless and faceless packages of beef in the grocer's freezer. But it's a different world out here.

Keri and Taco brought in the guns and grabbed the knives so they could cut up the moose. (It’s kind of hard to fit the whole thing in a freezer.) About 15 minutes into the job, I heard a banging at the door. There, looking as pathetic as could be, stood my two fearless hunters, each carrying a hind quarter and pleading frostbite.

Before I knew it, I had lost my kitchen floor to the cause.

I threatened them with a night in the great outdoors if there was one drop of blood left anywhere in the house.

They’ve butchered rabbits in my bathtub. They have now butchered a moose on my kitchen floor. I shudder to think what will happen if they ever shoot a bear.

I Can't Believe it's Butter!

Keri went to Anchorage for about a week, and arrived back home looking like a smuggler. He walked through the door, and I barely got a hug in before he was emptying the pockets of his snow jacket, snow vest and snow pants. That man must have been carrying 20 pounds of butter on his person!

He spent his last two evenings in Anchorage doing nothing but shopping. My hero! (Actually, he was shopping until about 3:00 AM both nights.) We are almost out of food at home, and buying stuff in the village is outrageous. A gallon of milk costs $12. Stuff is just downright pricey. But since that is a problem through the whole of the Bush, Anchorage is set up to accommodate it. They have some big stores (like WalMart and Fred Meyers) that have 24/7 bush order departments. You simply stock up your shopping cart, and they box it up and ship it off for you COD (cash on delivery). I hear there is also a post office open 24/7 for those who want their stuff shipped faster. It’s cheaper to shop that way than to buy it in the Bush.

The last night, he got all the produce and frozen stuff. He’d taken two empty totes out with him on the plane. He filled one tote with long-lasting produce (like potatoes and carrots and stuff) and mailed it back. The other tote, he filled with frozen stuff and short-lasting produce (like lettuce and kiwis) and was going to take it on the plane. Word to the wise—don’t try shipping bananas. No matter how you pack them, they just don’t survive. You get to the other end with brown mush. Anyway, the airplane tote was about 20 pounds too heavy—so he took out the butter and filled every pocket and crack and crevice in his clothes with the stuff. Then the tote weighed in perfectly. The plane was just as heavy, but at least the tote passed inspection.

You’d think carrying butter on the body might be a problem. You know—melting? But it actually works just fine on these flights, because the planes aren’t heated. You combine an Alaskan winter with high altitude flying, and it gets pretty nippy. So we wear long johns, sweats, jeans, snow pants…. We layer up for survival—not comfort. It’s definitely not the way to lounge back and relax. But it’s a great way to smuggle 20 pounds of butter.