A Taste of Thailand

I woke up to a phone call around nine in the morning; my friend’s neighbor’s grandmother’s employee had just quit his job, and they needed someone to come in immediately. Naturally, I was next in line. I drove across town to a strip mall I had never seen before and wandered into an unmarked restaurant where I was greeted by two golden lions, the king of Thailand (who was placing a call on an old brick phone), and a particularly satisfied Buddha.

Room to Grow

While perusing the West Tennessee Farmers’ Market, it would be hard to pass by the mountain of deep green vegetables and neon radishes of Rose Creek Farms, owned by Ray and Ashley Tyler. Their farm is nestled in a valley in Selmer, Tennessee, with a little over one acre of active farming land. With the help of high tunnels and row covers, they’re able to extend the typical season barriers to grow deliciously tender greens and veggies all year round.

A Vegetarian's Survival Guide to Eating in the South

By most standards, I’m a baby vegetarian, as I’ve only been a vegetarian for three-and-a-half years. But in those years, I’ve seen my body do incredible things. Let me back up a little bit. After having my first child, I struggled with losing the sixty pounds (yikes) I’d gained during pregnancy. I talked to a friend of mine who I’d always considered “the healthy one,” and she gave me some of her favorite recipes. I noticed all of them were meatless. So I decided to cut out meat, but just for a little while because, hello, bacon!

Natalie Cravens: Ten Years of Fighting for Hope

“I want you to close your eyes and imagine waking up on Christmas morning with all of the gifts your family and Santa Claus has brought you under the Christmas tree,” third grade teacher and author Natalie Cravens tells her students at West Chester Elementary in Chester County. “Now, while keeping your eyes closed, imagine being very sick instead and waking up in a hospital room void of presents on Christmas morning.”

From the Inside Out

It’s the woman at the bus stop holding a toddler’s hand. It’s the woman using food stamps in front of you at the grocery store. It’s the woman at the soup kitchen who can sing like no one else. These women and their families eat, sleep, and live a few blocks away but their stories are too gruesome to share, and it makes us a little uncomfortable to talk about them, much less look at them, eat with them, or live with them.