Meet The Team / Ellen Slattery

We've all heard about CSAs - Community-Supported Agriculture - and many of us have participated in CSA programs in our towns. Essentially, you fork over some cash (usually from $500 to $800), and each month, you get a bounty of whatever fruits and veggies are in season, courtesy of a locally-owned farm.

For some people, the boxes of produce are as close to they get to the farm, though they can feel secure in knowing that they're supporting their local farmers and not supporting grocery store-sold produce. Other CSA participants go a step further and purchase a small piece of the actual farm, which they visit and keep up themselves.

My question: why is the New York Times just now learning about this? A recent article on CSAs calls it "a loose but growing network," making it sound as if they just stumbled upon the movement yesterday. Really? I have friends who have been participating in these programs for years. Perhaps it's just new in more rural areas?

In the meantime, I will continue to enjoy locally-grown veggies, and go back to my love/hate relationship with the Times.

If you've ever run a race - or missed a meal - you know the name "Clif Bar." Packed with protein and carbs, these pocket-sized portions can get you through a tough race or a long meeting.

Between energy bars, sports gel, and even kids' granola bars, the Clif family has sure made a name for itself. So now that they've conquered the sports food arena, why not go for something a little more...laid-back?

Clif Bar's owners, Gary Erickson and Kit Crawford, fueled by motivation, entrepreneurial spirit, and probably a few bites of Maple Nut-flavored Clif bar, are now pouring their energy into wine. The Clif Bar Family Winery focuses on sustainably-farmed and organic grapes, and the collection includes a white and red both named "The Climber," as well as a zinfandel, a syrah, and others.

Energy bar to wine might not be the most obvious transition, but since they opened up shop in 2004, things seem to be going just swimmingly for the Clif Bar family.

• The Fourth of July has passed, but don't let that keep you from fixing these red, white, and blue parfaits
• Trying to find that elusive farmers' market in the Boston area? Try looking here
• A former Independence Day tradition is now marred by ecological and health concerns
• Cornmeal-buttermilk blueberry biscuits would be perfect dotted with a little butter and paired with an ice cold coffee
• Serve this fennel coleslaw alongside your favorite grilled items
• Next time you're eating and drinking on the go, grab a Flatterware Collapsible Cup from Uncommon Goods, made from BPA-free plastic.

Give a bunch of super-crafty DIY types the theme of "indulgence," allow time for their creativity to fester, and what do you get?

You get Sugarcraft, more than a month of sugar chandeliers, felted ice cream cones, watermelon earrings, and any other food-cum-craft project that you could dream up. The designers range from Heidi Kenney of My Paper Crane fame, who crochets food items complete with googly eyes and facial expressions, to the UK's Alison Tennant, who makes confections out of polymer clay - at a 1:12 scale.

Any way you slice it, these artists have some great ideas about indulgence and how it is represented in various mediums (sand art, sugar, paint, needlepoint...the list goes on and on). Go ahead: indulge yourself in a few photos from this year's Sugarcraft. And if you want to see them in person, get over to Chicago - it's going on through August 9.

My favorite summer indulgence, by far, is the Sea Dog BluePaw wheat ale. Of the several blueberry/wheat beer concoctions I've tried, Sea Dog is the smoothest, with the most natural, satisfying blueberry taste. It's a strong, solid ale with just a hint of real Maine blueberries, and no fake aftertaste.

But the best part isn't just the beer: it's what comes in it when you order. In Boston, at least, it comes to you with a smattering of fresh blueberries floating on top. Each surrounded by teeny bubbles, as you sip, they slowly sink down to the bottom, resulting in quite a pleasing display of physics (trust me, the process becomes more entertaining with each glass).

My friend and I started calling it the "poor man's sangria." But you can also call it delicious.