So somewhere between dropping out of college to begin what was unknown to me then as my Culinary Career that included early mornings working next to a man named Jose at a crazy café in Boulder where I met many of you ….gave you free coffee, drank microbrews before they were cool with on the rooftop. Hired you, fired you….became your best friend. And between when Cooper came along, I lived some lost time here. The parent’s of the woman who built this farm had perished in a plane accident, she took the insurance money; went to Nepal and studied sustainable living…came to Crested Butte, built a farm and taught us how to LIVE. The home was solar powered, and inside that there greenhouse was a wood fired hot tub that brought moisture to the biggest baddest veggies you will ever see. She had chickens, one day she suggested I stay our late (which was not a problem…still isn’t) because the neighbor was coming over to turn the chickens….into well….chicken meat. She said I might want be gone as it was sad to see Feathers and Clucky meet their demise…When I came home tired and tipsy after snowboarding my ginger behind off and rewarding myself afterward…the home smelled of every memory that your mother makes when she serves you the glistening bowl of goodness on a snowy day when you are sick at home. There pot was full of the deep greens and burnt oranges of the greenhouse, along with Clucky and Feathers cooked to perfection…it was the best soup I ever had. I am going to try to recreate it today, though I bought my bounty at the local Organic Superstore….I am going to put that memory and energy into the pot…bring some home for someone special, and hope to one day- create that very paradise for my own family.