Fall 2020 Editor's Letter

Photo by Michael Piazza

I was puttering around my kitchen the other day when a radio segment caught my ear: The host and her guest were discussing a social media phenomenon called “cottagecore”—essentially a movement towards old-fashioned homesteading, the embrace of sustainability, nature and community. I’d never heard this term before, and as I listened I discovered that online, #cottagecore is a romanticized aesthetic, a life filled with pies and floral aprons, vintage linens draped on outdoor tables, breakfasts of foraged berries, homemade bread, hand-churned butter. And according to NPR, it’s the welcomed antidote to our strange “new normal,” a calming respite from the chaos of pandemic, protest, wildfires and the divisive politics that consume us every day. Boy, do we ever need that kind of distraction right now.

It’s true there’s been an overwhelming interest in gardening, cooking and backyard farming since the onset of COVID-19, even in the city. Just try finding a packet of vegetable seeds to plant a fall plot—even the best-stocked garden centers are out. It seems like growing food is everyone’s new hobby; besides simply tasting better and reducing our carbon footprint, food grown at home—or by a nearby farmer who we trust—is now among the safest ways to eat when fear of infection taints shopping trips and supply chains are broken down.

As I listened to the voices on my radio chronicle #cottagecore’s pandemic rise, I was struck by something: This issue, the one you’re reading right now, embodies exactly this aesthetic. It’s what we and our fellow Edible magazines around the country have been espousing for the better part of this millennium. Preserving and pickling, baking and gardening, keeping chickens and bees. Back to basics. Food your grandparents would recognize. If there’s a silver lining to be found in this terrible year, it’s got to be this: Local food is going more mainstream than ever.

When we planned this issue back in June, we wanted it to feel like a big hug, full of simple, useful recipes for comforting food, ready to nourish you through these uncharted, home-based months. Thanksgiving will certainly feel different—multi-generational meals will likely be put off until next year and groups will be smaller, as will our suppers. So what’s a family of four to do with a 16-pound turkey? Read Annie Copps’ techniques for breaking down your bird by spatchcocking, galantining or braising—even deep frying, if you’re brave. And for a really small group ready for a departure from tradition, why not try duck instead? 

Rachel Caldwell’s DIY Yogurt story details how and why you should make your own with nothing more than a bottle of good milk and a few tablespoons of your last batch. Renee McLeod, pie baker extraordinaire and owner of Petsi Pies, shares her baking secrets for the best desserts you’ll have all year. And Nichole Bernier, an accomplished beekeeper herself, explores the business of bees for us burgeoning homesteaders eager to start our own hives—plus five sweet recipes for using up that golden, local honey. 

This season our Edible Food Finds are back in full force. Our team of writers introduce you to a from-the-heart burger joint in Dorchester and a Gloucester bakery where the food is as delicious as the company; a chef-turned-charcutier pivoting from wholesale to retail; a cidery using heirloom varietals for their Rare Apple Series; and a meal kit company merging traditional Indian cuisine with New England ingredients.

Margaret LeRoux went to Agronomy Farm Vineyard where winemakers Marisa and Corey O’Connor are living their best lives: walking through their vines, with their children, doing what they love—a pastoral paradise, to be sure. Kevin Koczwara checked in with the state’s fluctuating liquor laws to see how they’ve been relaxed in an effort to help bars and restaurants stay afloat during the pandemic; will our puritanical reputation return post-COVID, or are cocktails-to-go here to stay? And Margo Gabriel’s conversation with Chef Douglass Williams of MIDA, hot off his Food & Wine Best New Chef win, shows us what it means to be “world class, in a neighborhood setting.”

It’s been our mission since the beginning to prove that local food isn’t a luxury; it’s for everyone, for our whole community. Michael Floreak’s feature on the Boston Food Forest Coalition and Alison Arnett’s exploration of area farmers markets’ COVID response illustrate this perfectly. Floreak describes neighborhood permaculture gardens across the city, built and maintained by volunteers filled with food for everyone to share; Arnett’s deep dive into the Healthy Incentives Program for SNAP recipients shows how local farms’ participation benefits both buyers and farmers, thanks to state funding and strong support from farmers market associations. 

And yet, people are struggling and our neighbors are hungry. Food banks can’t keep up with the need, and it’s only going to get worse as unemployment benefits and other federal assistance runs out. So many restaurants that closed back in March have yet to reopen (nearly 25% as of press time, according to the Boston Globe), and those that did are struggling as many patrons still feel wary about eating indoors. All that outdoor dining we did through summer will come to an abrupt end in November unless we bundle up and brave the weather. Restaurants are hanging on by a thread, and if we want a robust and funky food system filled with diverse and eclectic cuisines cooked by talented, committed chefs, we have to support them now. Invest in some fingerless gloves and a great hat and just get out there. Buy takeout, buy gift cards for later use—heck, dine on patios in a snowsuit if you have to. 

We know this fall won’t be easy. Boston will be a changed city on the other side of COVID. My suggestions for coping? Take a page out of #cottagecore and make a pie. Maybe enjoy a quieter kind of holiday, donating your time to volunteer and help others in need. 

But the most important thing you can do is vote. Vote from home or vote early or vote safely in person. And encourage your neighbors to join you. 

Peace,

Sarah