Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is novelist Barbara Kingsolver’s new nonfiction book about her family’s year of eating locally. Or to quote the blurb: “With characteristic poetry and pluck, Barbara Kingsolver and her family sweep readers along on their journey away from the industrial-food pipeline to a rural life in which they vow to buy only food raised in their own neighborhood, grow it themselves, or learn to live without it.”
The book has a Web site with more information, recipes, and local contacts. All good.
But consider this excerpt from the late-June chapter on Kingsolver’s experiments with cheese-making:
I’m not sure why, since it takes less time to make a pound of mozzarella than to bake a cobbler, but most people find the idea of making cheese at home to be preposterous. If the delivery guy happens to come to the door when I’m cutting and draining curd, I feel like a Wiccan.
Wiccans (a) do clandestine things in the kitchen, (b) make cheese, (c) are preposterous, (d) all of the above?