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Yes, the Farm Bill is one of those bits of legislation that reminds us of the truism that you don’t want to see laws or sausage being made. (And just in case we’re willing, Congress makes sure we don’t watch too closely.)

I suppose if I were in Congress, I’d hold my nose and vote for it, as most of the Kansas lawmakers (Hutchinson News) did. The quotes from some of the lawmakers in that Hutchinson News story, however, show how much hogwash is part of the bill. I’m a farmer’s granddaughter and very sympathetic with farmers, but don’t break my heart over cutting payments to those whose income exceeds $750,000, especially while commodity prices are at record highs.

Meanwhile, the Sustainable Agriculture Coalition (PDF) summarizes the good things in the bill, which President Bush says he’ll veto because it doesn’t cut direct payments enough, a stance that appears entirely out of character for the president and, therefore, makes me very suspicious.

For commentary by people better-informed than I, check out these:

• U.S. Food Policy’s Parke Wilde, who gives an overview of the final bill.
• Ethicurean Elanor Starmer, who favored passage and is highly suspicious of Bush.
• The Slow Cook Ed Bruske, who opposed passage.
• Gristmill’s Tom Philpott, who provided some good analysis augmented by useful comments.

At this stage, there isn’t much left for us as individuals to do about this Farm Bill, I guess, other than let our lawmakers know how we feel about a veto if that occurs. One thing we need to be sure of, though, is that we don’t wait around to gear up for the next Farm Bill in four years. We all need to make our voices and our dollars heard in our daily living, our political and charitable contributions and, yes, in our communications with lawmakers. They seem frequently to forget that they work for us, but that’s just because we let them. We have to stop letting them forget.

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There, amid this week’s CSA bag full of greenery, was Purple Passion, a deeply purple asparagus variety.

Even though the Rolling Prairie farmers had green asparagus, too, and even though purple asparagus in my experience turns green just like the other stuff, I couldn’t resist choosing the purple.

I always get excited by the deliveries, but this one was more exciting than usual. For the first time that I can recall—and I’ve been a subscriber since Rolling Prairie started in 1994—the farmers had broccoli to offer and a tender-leaved lettuce much like a butter lettuce although it seemed halfway between a looseleaf and head variety. I love broccoli! I love butter lettuces!

I set out to put my bounty to work. I started some water to cook rice, then washed and spun the lettuce dry and stored it in the refrigerator. (Voila! Prewashed, organic, local salad.) I minced some of that new green onions, sliced one of the stalks of broccoli (I don’t understand why people don’t eat the stalks), and sliced up some aspargus. It didn’t take much. That aspargus is huge—huge but tender. I didn’t even need to trim the freshly snapped-off ends from the 14-inch stalks.

With those jewels, plus a little oil, a little garlic, a little tamari, a smidge of sugar and some almonds, I had dinner in short order. De-licious, nutritious, satisfying. I can hardly wait till the next bag.

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Perhaps you recall my getting lemon balm in my CSA bag a couple of weeks ago. I had no experience with lemon balm, which was one of the attractions, and it was so pretty!

It had these pretty, crinkly leaves, and when you rub them they leave a nice lemony scent on your fingers. I brought the balm home, stuck the stems in a glass of water and set them near a kitchen window.

Then I started reading about it. Seems that it’s used primarily as a tea. Although it’s fine for cooking, I suspect its flavor is too subtle to be of great culinary value, as I couldn’t even taste it in the eggs I mentioned yesterday.

My reading made it sound lovely as a tea, though, very calming both of anxiety and of digestive tracts. There was a caution, though, about it interfering with thyroid medicine, which I take.

About the time I learned that, a friend pointed out that my lemon balm was rooting, right there in the jelly jar glass. I asked Lynn, an expert gardener, whether I should plant it just for its foliage. She discouraged me, with warnings of its taking over the way its relative, mint, does.

So it still sits on my counter. If anyone wants a start, let me know. Or maybe I’ll find a spot for it in some contained space, like my composter.

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I love convenience foods like asparagus and eggs—that is, convenience foods that Mother Nature makes. With asparagus and eggs, you can make a meal faster than the guy next door can pry open a box and the interior packaging of Hamburger Helper.

For instance, I wanted a nice hot meal but didn’t want to spend a lot of time cooking it. I pulled out a fat stalk of asparagus, a green onion and two eggs, all local. (The pale egg is a lovely shade of blue-green, but you can’t tell against the blue-green countertop.) I take 10 seconds (maybe) to cut the asparagus into bite-size bits and thinly slice the onion.

I toss them into a small skillet with a tablespoon or so of olive oil over medium-high heat. While the pan heats up and the vegetables start to sizzle, I crack open the eggs into a small bowl and beat them with a tablespoon of water. On a whim, I mince some lemon balm and add it to the eggs. Now, less than a minute after turning on the heat, I add the eggs to the pan and throw a couple pieces of Farm to Market bread in the toaster.

Darned if I didn’t fail to spread the oil around well enough, and the eggs stick. No omelet here. But scrambled eggs with onion and asparagus work for me, too, so I turn them as best I can and when they’re cooked, maybe, oh, two minutes later, I transfer the eggs to a plate and wait for the toast to finish.

I add a little extra lemon balm as a garnish. (Presentation isn’t my strong suit, but I try.) Voila! Hot, savory broken asparagus omelet with toast. Delicious and satisfying.

The guy next door? If he’s lucky, his high-salt, low-fiber convenience meal will be ready about the time I’m done with the dishes. Too bad for him. Maybe someday he’ll learn about real convenience foods.

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