It kind of snuck up on us. Yes, there were headlines here and proclamations there, but we were cautious – afraid to be too optimistic – because we had been disappointed before when we thought the pandemic was over and a new strain, a new surge disrupted life again. It’s odd to walk into a store without a mask or restrictions, though I still wear one when in closed quarters with poor circulation. Having suffered through a “mild” case last winter, I have absolutely no desire to ever experience that again. EVER! And, I certainly do not wish to contribute to its spread. Is there anything worse for a foodie than losing her sense of taste and smell? 

So, now what? What have we emerged into? How different have our communities become on the other side? As we emerge, we see the subtle and not-so-subtle changes. 

For one, restaurants took a horrible hit and it is unclear how many will actually survive given the new landscape. Supply chains have altered and the labor market has been flipped on its head. These changes have been written about and analyzed from every angle imaginable and only time will tell what the restaurant scene will look like in the next year. It’s not an easy time for the industry.

I took a cooking class a few weeks ago. Anyone who follows our blogs and social media knows how much I enjoy cooking classes! I had not taken one in over three years and I was a little apprehensive about being around a crowd of strangers but this one was an outdoor cooking class at a local homestead given by a person I have followed on social media for a couple of years. I really admire her work and am intrigued with her approach of teaching people to cook farm-fresh, seasonal food on local farms. It checks so many boxes! (Sprouting Kitchen has plenty of cooking classes throughout the year so check them out at https://www.thesproutingkitchen.org/)

What a joy to be around people who share my enthusiasm for cooking, eating, supporting local farmers, and learning! Using a humble head of cabbage, we made an incredible feast on outdoor stoves in a beautiful backyard of someone who is making a conscientious effort to minimize his footprint on the planet. The recipe was so good and cabbage so readily available at the market, that I made it at home the following week.

As I chatted with others at my table, one of the women asked about other cooking classes. New to the area, she wanted to learn about our local cuisine and meet new friends. I told her about some of my favorites (Jan’s on 4^th, Santa Fe Cooking School) but each sentence included, “I’m not sure if they survived the pandemic.” And it broke my heart. Just knowing that some of our treasures did not survive the two- or three-year closure saddens me. I did not have an opportunity to take so many classes before Covid hit and those opportunities are lost. (Both Jan’s on 4^th and the Santa Fe Cooking School are thriving post-pandemic!)

Another heartbreaking change is the state of farmers markets. Though they proved to be the savior of our fragile food system, and are more popular than ever, some of the smaller ones just never reopened or are struggling to survive. And, that just breaks my heart. Those small markets are an important anchor in our communities where neighbors catch up, local farmers sell their food, and an economic engine purrs away. One of my favorites is a shell of itself. I keep going each week because I want to support the few farmers who still arrived bright and early every Saturday morning, but I’m not sure this little market is sustainable. Fewer farmers and their stalls mean less produce and fewer shoppers. With fewer shoppers, there is less incentive to attend the smaller markets and more incentive to join the large markets. It’s a self-fulfilling prophesy. Fewer than half of the former vendors have returned and I wonder if they are heading downtown to the large markets or if they are throwing in the towel, joining forces with a CSA, opening their own farm stands, or if they are able to sell to restaurants and schools again. I miss them. I miss my routine where I pretty much knew which stands I would stop at, what they would be selling, and how much it would cost. 

While I’m truly grateful to have survived and to have my family and closest friends still with me, my heart is heavy over the precious people and things we lost. Coming together to make food is rejuvenating and healing; it is the backbone of a strong, resilient community. It is my deepest hope that as we continue to emerge, we support each other by supporting our local farmers, growers, food producers, restaurants, food trucks, CSAs, cooking classes and local food webs. I sincerely hope to see you at a cooking class or farm stand this summer!

Pepper, July 2023