Hungry Kids
I stare blankly at the fruit, lost in thought, while she swings from its branches. Is it because I’m back in the Central Valley that I see these parallels to The Grapes of Wrath?
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My grapefruit tree in Northwest Fresno.
This piece originally appeared as a post on The Stranger in Your Kitchen, my now-retired blog, in 2016.
I’ve been standing here for hours, prepping food for the busy week ahead. Cleaning greens. Cooking grains. Overnight oats. Jenny Rosentrach’s ‘Basic Vinaigrette’.
I start to feel exasperated at how long it takes, this weekly prep, and I then change course:
Who am I to complain when we have food readily available, when I can shop in peace, markets brimming with variety, while so many starve? Why do we resign ourselves, saying, “I alone cannot make a difference,” when doing something is always better than doing nothing?
Man, can I get heavy these days! Even gratitude weighs me down. Like the ripe grapefruit, hanging from the giving tree outside my daughter’s window.
I stare blankly at the fruit, lost in thought, while she swings from its branches. Is it because I’m back in Fresno that I cannot help but form The Grapes of Wrath parallels?
What do others do in food deserts dotted by fruit trees??
In my reverie, I see hungry kids. They watch me prep food, grab bites from the cutting board, and run off with satisfied bellies. Satiating a basic human right.
My favorite vinaigrette recipe comes from Dinner: The Playbook. I think about Jenny’s premise – deconstructing dinner for picky eaters – and again I descend:
Our kids’ pickiness wouldn’t survive one day of real hunger! Resentment washes over me, but this time I push it away, replace it with resolve.
My weekly prep complete, I head out back, load up the excess fruit, and take it to the Poverello House, a local shelter feeding the homeless and hungry. The delivery process is a wake-up call in its own right, and I am glad to hear about their campaign for a new food service warehouse and operation center.
Back at home, I glance outside at my tree. Yes, I will make those grapefruit granitas from Ina Garten’s newest book. No reason not to! But the vast majority, I will donate, because it is something I can do.
And doing something is always better than doing nothing.

I stare blankly at the fruit, lost in thought, while she swings from its branches. Is it because I’m back in the Central Valley that I see these parallels to The Grapes of Wrath?

Join me in raising your spoon to those who came before us, whose precious knowledge strengthens our heritage, one recipe card at a time.

There’s more than one way to make pilaf, said the Badveli to my parents.