The co-op was mentioned in the Houston Chronicle this week.  It was a nice-enough article, although the author didn’t give enough credit to the reasons I shop there. 

Everyone at the co-op is so friendly that I’d drop by even if I didn’t buy vegetables.  Before I had little people pulling on my apron strings, I could (and would) spend all morning there, cradling a drink and my laptop.  The produce is fresh, delivered that morning.  The local stuff is so newly pulled out of the ground that it still has dirt on it, and if you hold your greens close, they’re actually warm.  Collards look downright adorable when I find them at the co-op; the fennel looks so pretty I’m convinced I need to take it home even though I have to check my cookbooks and create an entire meal around it.  I’ve never eaten as well as I do since shopping at the co-op.  When I write my check for next week’s share, I know I’m keeping local farmers in business.  The local farmers in turn grow food for me to discover and enjoy, and keep our rural spaces rich and productive.  Best of all, when C&D ask where their food comes from, I can answer, "the farmer," and know exactly who.