This year, for the first time since I moved from Los Angeles to rural New York, I’m not participating in a vegetable CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) program. For the uninitiated, CSA programs allow consumers to prebuy shares in a farm’s produce ahead of time, then pick up a set share of the produce each week through the growing season. The share price is fixed, and you take your chances on the farmer’s success, whatever is grown. If tomatoes fail, like they did two years ago – no tomatoes. If brussels sprouts are bountiful...you get the idea.)

For my first four summers here, I tried a new farm program every year. This summer, as an experiment, I decided to try going without, supplementing my garden produce with trips to the local farmers’ market. Don’t get me wrong, I love farmers’ markets, and still shopped at them (albeit less frequently) when I was also getting produce direct from the farm. Talking to the farmers at their stands, I’m still able to learn from growers about what’s thriving, what’s not, and why. But I find myself missing one irreplaceable advantage of the CSA: surprise.

Let’s face it: some produce is polarizing. Brussels sprouts have their partisans. Fennel is often misunderstood. And daikon, kohlrabi and Jerusalem artichokes often confuse. Unless you’re content to consign the unknown to the compost pile, participation in a CSA forces you to confront your vegetable phobias.

Years ago, I thought I didn’t like fennel: anise equalled licorice which equalled yuck. (I was young. I have no other excuse.) Then a friend served it to me as a gratin, sliced very thin, baked with cream and gruyère. The familiar, and irresistible, presentation (not to mention aversion to rudely declining my host’s cooking) made me try, and like, something new. The next time I confronted fennel, I was much less antagonistic.

I’ve used this lesson ever since. A familiar preparation can make a new taste seem less suspicious. Slicing root vegetables thin and baking them like potatoes make them seem comforting. Julienning daikon or kohlrabi, tossing it with vinaigrette and calling it a slaw has the same effect.

As a gardener, I am learning that if we want to feed ourselves from our gardens, we have to be willing to grow what works, which may not always be the stuff we already know we like. If you haven’t already, consider expanding your horizons by joining a CSA. Local Harvest and the Van En Center are great resources for finding participating farms in your area.

SEEDING: Taking my own jump into the unknown, I’ve decided to add some new lettuces to my tiny salad greens bed. (I love arugula and mesclun so much, I rarely try anything new.) Red romaine is now sprouting, which should make for a colorful Caesar salad later this summer.

READING: Darina Allen is often called Ireland’s Martha Stewart or Ireland’s Julia Child, but she deserves to stand on her own. Allen advocates locavorism and frugality, along with delicious eating. Her latest cookbook, Forgotten Skills of Cooking (Kyle, 2010) is a gift to gardeners and foragers alike. The book includes refreshers on everything from growing salad greens on the windowsill to foraging for (and frying) wild comfrey leaves, and recipes ranging from comforting (Summer Green Pea Soup) to exotic (Kelp and Smoked Seafood Salad.)

NEEDING: I always thought mandolines seemed exotic, until I bought one. Now I can’t imagine cooking without it. The mandoline makes homemade zucchini chips possible, and julienned salads quick work. While I fantasize about a fancy French one like the DeBuyer Professionnelle, my (much less expensive) Oxo model is still sharp and slicing after four years.

FEEDING: This is my adaptation of a Mario Batali recipe for, of all things, an octopus salad. In a bizarre and inexplicable inspiration, I substituted fennel for octopus. It worked.

Fennel and Bean Salad with Olive-Orange Vinaigrette (adapted from Mario Batali’s Italian Grill [Harper Collins, 2008])
Serves 6-8

2 bulbs of fennel, sliced as thin as possible, preferably on a mandoline
2 14 oz. cans of gigante or butter beans, drained and rinsed or 3-1/2 cups cooked beans
1 garlic clove, thinly sliced
2 scallions, thin sliced
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried)
Grated zest of two oranges
juice of 1/2 orange
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup coarsely chopped Italian parsley
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

Vinaigrette:

2 shallots, minced
1/4 cup pitted oil cured olives, coarsely chopped
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

Combine the sliced fennel, beans, garlic, scallions, thyme, orange zest, orange juice and 1/4 cup olive oil in a large bowl, and toss gently. Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes, or until ready to serve.

For the vinaigrette: Combine the shallots, olives, vinegar, and red pepper flakes in a small jar. Add the olive oil, put on the lid tightly and shake until combined.

When ready to serve, toss the vinaigrette with the vegetables, and add the chopped parsley. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

This keeps well and is delicious the next day.