While sitting shiva after my Grandma Doris's funeral, my mother finally asked my grandfather a question that had been plaguing her since she was a child.  After all, she has three older bothers, the youngest of whom is seven years her senior.  

"Dad, was I an accident?"

"No - your mother planned you."

"Well...how about you?"

"Me?  I was drunk."  

Poppy Harold had many gems in his day - some slightly racist (merely a product of the times, I'm sure), and others as direct and straightforward as, "That son of a bitch rat bastard stole my laundry."  Yet of all quips, puns and sayings, the one that stuck with me the most was one I didn't hear until just yesterday.  My uncle vividly recalled sitting at the kitchen table as a child, stressing out over a major exam he had the next day.  Poppy Harold, simply turned to him and said, "Just do the best you can do: that's all anyone can ever ask of you."

On Sunday, my grandfather, Harold Hills, passed away.

The man was 91 years old, and lived one hell of a life - perhaps even two!  On what we presumed to be his death bed, we told him he could have whatever he wanted to eat: anything at all. 

"Moo shu shrimp and hot and sour soup with lots of spicy mustard."

...AND THE MAN LIVED FOR ANOTHER MONTH! 

Lately, I feel as though I haven't always been putting my best foot forward: slacking on posting regularly, not responding to emails in a timely manner, and becoming lazier with my photographs.  People become busy, tired, social.  Life gets in the way.   

But I refuse to accept that as an excuse any longer.  Yesterday, I finally took an active role in changing all of that.  I had the opportunity to shoot with one of my favorite photographers, Sonya Yu, as she taught me invaluable tips and tricks of the trade.  She taught be to become more cognizant of my surroundings, and how to look at subjects differently through the lens of a camera.  She taught me about the importance of light, and how to recognize its power, its presence, and its beauty.  She taught me shoot, and shoot, and shoot some more, to be comfortable with failure, and to use it as a learning opportunity for the next reel.  

So, this is my pledge: my resolution to be better, to try harder and to work my ass off every single day.  The only variable in the equation of life over which we have control is our level of effort: beyond that, we are at the mercy of a million other factors.  I'll almost certainly fail, and I may even succeed, but when I am positive that I've given 110%, the outcome is out of my hands and I've done all that I can do.

After all, that's all anyone can ever ask of you.

Nosh on,
Josh

I rarely set foot in grocery stores anymore: I find them to be cold, irritating, and fake.

Unnatural. 

A vast majority of my home-cooked meals are made with produce from farmers' markets.  Spring has sprung, and as I peruse the aisles lined with vendors, I become giddy with excitement spotting asparagus in season, strawberries adding vibrant red hues to the lineup, and gladly welcoming the first peaches and blueberries popping in to say hello. 

During any given week, there are between 25 and 30 markets from which I can purchase local, seasonal, organic goods from farmers who bring their crops to my city.   Not to mention that as I shop,  I am able to physically shake the hand of the man or woman who, just days or hours prior, plucked my carrots from the ground and cut my kale straight from the plant.  I can listen to live music, watch cooking demonstrations, enjoy my choice of hot food and buy flowers just because I can.

From Mission Mercado to the Upper Haight, and the Castro to Fort Mason, every neighborhood has a home for those who appreciate the importance of such high quality ingredients and who care about supporting their local communities.  But if it weren't for one market in particular, none of this would be possible.  An integral reason we are able to enjoy such luxuries due is thanks in no small part to, "The Grandaddy of them All," the pioneer market in San Francisco: The Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market.

Until recently, I failed to grasp just how fortunate I am to have this tremendous bounty at my fingertips each and every day.   I simply assumed that markets had always been a standard part of San Franciscan life: never really thinking twice.  Yet as it turns out, when the market debuted in September of 1992, it was only billed as a temporary offering after the freeway running across the Ferry Building was damaged in the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake.  However, thanks to the outpouring of chefs who now had easier access to some of the finest, freshest ingredients around, the market's popularity grew exponentially, people clamored for more, and simply everyone demanded that it become a staple each and every week, thus providing the impetus for what we expect, and often times take for granted, today.   

In two weeks, Cuesa is celebrating its 20th Anniversary with two birthday bashes: Wednesday, May 15th with Spring Cocktails and Saturday, May 18th with four types of strawberry shortcake, including this one from Francis Ang of The Fifth Floor:

Cuesa is much more than a market organizer.  They are committed to sustainability in both the vendors they choose and they phenomenal programs they run.  Their "Schoolyard to Market" initiative is a youth development, entrepreneurship, and gardening program that allows students to grow vegetables at their own schools and sell at the market.  "Foodwise Kids" targets a younger demographic, children grades 1-5, and introduces them to the items available and facilitates a cooking class with the ingredients they had just purchased.  Lectures, farm tours and "Discovery Stations," are also available adults year round.  

So swing by and wish Cuesa a Happy Birthday, thank a volunteer for keeping the markets friendly and clean, and take a moment to wonder what life would be like without that first market down at Ferry Plaza 20 years ago. 

Nosh on,
Josh