Use local bounty, but jazz it up with something from afar

IN THE PRODUCE aisle of my grocery store, everything is always in season. I can find asparagus in the fall, sweet corn on the cob and strawberries in the darkest days of winter. There is something miraculous about that, but something ominous, too.

These days, eating something out of season carries the moral load of a scarlet letter. The locavore movement has become so intertwined with the green movement that it's hard to buy anything from far away without considering the ethical and ecological implications.

But, according to Stephen Budiansky, the author of the blog liberalcurmudgeon.com, flying produce halfway around the world might not be as bad as we think it is. He reminded us that transporting produce, like transporting anything else, accounts for a tiny fraction of its overall cost — both in terms of dollars and environmental considerations.

In a New York Times Op-Ed piece last August, Budiansky, who maintains a large vegetable garden for his own family's needs, pointed out that "the local-food movement now threatens to devolve into another one of those self-indulgent — and self-defeating — do-gooder dogmas."

The best way to make the best use of our resources, he says, "is to grow lettuce, oranges, wheat, peppers, bananas, whatever, in the places where they grow best and with the most efficient technologies — and then pay the relatively tiny energy cost to get them to market, as we do with every other commodity in the economy. Sometimes that means growing vegetables in your backyard. Sometimes that means buying vegetables grown in California or Costa Rica."

I find this perspective extremely sane and liberating. But at the risk of drifting into the realm of pseudo science or labeling myself as one of those dogmatic do-gooders, I think it's also fair to say that our bodies crave what's in season where we are. Who wants watermelon or cucumbers when it's cold outside? And how appealing is pumpkin pie on a hot summer day? By tradition, if not by law, certain foods belong to certain seasons.

What's in season depends on where we live. Where we live, the short, gray days of autumn and early winter can be daunting for the locavore. The fruit trees are reduced to Shakespeare's "bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang," and after the first frost, the vegetable beds can be dismal places.

Still, the end of the growing season has its own rewards. The last few carrots and parsnips, if you catch them before they try to sprout, have enough stored sugars to make them sweet as summer fruit. Many greens can handle a light freeze without going to pieces, and after having been touched by frost, Brussels sprouts and other crucifers like cabbage and kale taste better.

Even those ubiquitous tubers have a certain charm. Who can resist a fingerling potato, steamed or baked until it's just tender, then tossed in olive oil? And while that oil might come from halfway around the world, you can't tell this cook it's not worth the cost of importing it. In fact, a sensible cook can get a lot more out of local produce by spiking it with some imported condiments. I've never tasted a local vinegar that could compare with balsamico from Modena. I'll vouch for imported black pepper, vanilla beans and threads of saffron, too. I'll happily pay an exorbitant fee for a handful of pine nuts to add texture and flavor to my kale and potatoes. And don't even get me started on coffee. I don't know many locavores who don't drink it.

At the end of the day, it's about making choices, and most of us seem to feel best when we're choosing something local spiked with something good from far away.

Greg Atkinson is a chef instructor at Seattle Culinary Academy. He can be reached at greg@westcoastcooking.com. Ken Lambert is a Seattle Times staff photographer.

Farfalle Pasta with Pine Nuts, Currants and Kale

Serves 6

Farfalle is Italian for butterfly, and the name refers to the pasta shape that we call "bow tie" noodles in English.

3/4 pound farfalle pasta

1 gallon boiling water

2 tablespoons kosher salt, for boiling the pasta

1/2 cup dried currants

1 bunch (1 pound) kale, preferably organic

1/2 cup olive oil

1/2 cup pine nuts

4 cloves garlic, peeled and sliced thin

2 teaspoons kosher salt, for seasoning

1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Grated Parmesan cheese, as an accompaniment

1. Boil the pasta in salted water until it is barely tender, about 10 minutes, and drain, saving one cup of the cooking liquid. Scatter the drained pasta over the surface of a baking sheet to halt the cooking process and allow it to cool. The pasta may be prepared ahead up to this point, then finished later.

2. Pour the reserved cup of pasta water over the dried currants; let them stand in the water to soften while you prepare the other ingredients.

3. Cut the kale into a chiffonade by rolling the leaves into a cigar-like bundle and, with a large, sharp knife, cutting across the bundle in a rocking motion to render the leaves into ribbons about 1/8 inch wide.

4. Put the oil in a large sauté pan over medium-high heat and cook the pine nuts in the oil until they are fragrant and just beginning to brown, about 2 minutes. (Watch closely; pine nuts burn quickly.) Add the sliced garlic and sauté until it is bubbling hot, but not browned. Add the kale and sauté for 2 minutes, or until the kale is wilted.

5. Drain the currants and add them to the sautéed kale mixture, then toss the hot greens with the cooked pasta. Stir in the salt and pepper and serve at once with Parmesan cheese passed separately.

Greg Atkinson, 2010