I'm only a bit into Plenty, the tale of two people who only eat local. In the beginning we learn much of what they cannot have, because it is beyond their 100 mile limit. One of the hardest things for them is no local grain, forcing them to make sandwiches from sliced turnips. On the other hand, their stores in Vancouver supply an array of local seafood. Me, if I was a bread baker, could use my Wisconsin wheat or my Minnesota oats or my cornmeal from two states, yet in my stores, I find, well, whitefish.
While Caputo's today had Michigan apples on sale, 59 cents/lb, whitefish is probably the one local item that can always be found around here. I heavily interrogated the fishmonger at Whole Foods about their fillets, making him let me smell them, before a recent purchase. As I am wont, their localness made dinner extra delicious. My wife used a preparation that highlighted their freshness.
She thawed some asparagus (how's that for an off riff on Cali-corporate seasonality, eating last year's asparagus this time of year) and made a bed on a sheet of foil. Sliced lemon and herbs (local of course) made a layer before the fish. She rubbed a bit of mustard (mustard, there's another thing that would keep me from being 100 mile pure), splashed some white wine and folded. 20 or so minutes in a pre-heated oven, and we were local-licously eating our second course of dinner. First, last week's chard, which turned its accompanying pasta pink.
Sadly, my joy over dinner is lessened (a lot), by the fact that I cannot seem to find my camera--I had wanted to document the whitefish. I hope that mere words suffice.