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Famous Kristin Kimball Quotes

“I unlocked the door of my apartment, where the only movement, while I was gone, had been the light moving across the walls from the morning to evening and a scuttling roach or two, and the air inside smelled of loneliness. The ache got eased a little the next day, after I'd picked up my dog from my sister, gotten sucked back into the slipstream of the city. But only a little. And soon it spread, until the word home could make me cry. I wanted one.”

LonelinessApartmentCity LifeHomesickness
Author:Kristin Kimball
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“Mark came home late one frozen Sunday carrying a bag of small, silver fish. They were smelts, locally known as icefish. He’d brought them at the store in the next town south, across from which a little village had sprung up on the ice of the lake, a collection of shacks with holes drilled in and around them. I’d seen the men going from the shore to the shacks on snowmobiles, six-packs of beer strapped on behind them like a half dozen miniature passengers. “Sit and rest,” Mark said. “I’m cooking.” He sautéed minced onion in our homemade butter, added a little handful of crushed, dried sage, and when the onion was translucent, he sprinkled n flour to make a roux, which he loosened with beer, in honor of the fishermen. He added cubed carrot, celery root, potato, and some stock, and then the fish, cut into pieces, and when they were all cooked through he poured in a whole morning milking’s worth of Delia’s yellow cream. Icefish chowder, rich and warm, eaten while sitting in Mark’s lap, my feet so close to the woodstove that steam came off my damp socks.”

FoodCookingFarmFarm Life
Book:The Dirty Life: On Farming, Food, and Love
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“He had never owned a car. He biked or hitchhiked where he needed to go. He had recently turned against the word should, and doing so had made him a happier person. He found the market economy and it's anonymous exchange boring. He'd like to imagine a farm where no money changed hands, only goodwill and favors. He had a theory that you had to start out by giving stuff away- preferably big stuff, worth, he figured, about a thousand dollars. At first, he said, people are discomfited by such a big gift. They try to make it up to you, by giving something big in return. And then you give them something else, and they give you something else, and pretty soon nobody is keeping score. There is simply a flow of things from place of excess to place of need. It's personal, and it's satisfying, and everyone feels good about it. This guy is completely nuts, I thought. But what if he's right?”

FarmingEccentricityAnticapitalistAlternative LifestyleAlternative Economy
Book:The Dirty Life: On Farming, Food, and Love
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