Exhausted? The heart needs to be fed. We're so glad to offer events designed to enliven and uplift, regardless of how - or if - you marked your ballot.

Roy and his daughter Rebecca run their 1100-acre Jones Farm in north Alabama. Their main crop? Fruit, with some vegetables, grown on 15 acres. During prime season, they need a dozen workers, sometimes more.

It was Halloween, late afternoon. The shadows were getting long. A farmer walked out to his pasture to check on his cows. He was the last farmer in the land.

Our story spotlights a wholesome, intentional relationship between farmers, processors, butchers, animals and restaurant owners. In life and death, these relationships are built on respect. They benefit all involved.

Earlier this year, we began scratching our heads with a question. Can we tell a complete story of one plate of food served in Chattanooga? Is it possible to trace one meal back to its source?And tell its story? Start to finish. Beginning to end.

Standing tall in a family of meat-eaters, Kelsey Vasileff was 10 when she made her announcement: I'm going vegetarian.

Today's feature is written by Dr. Robin Fazio, long-time farmer, educator and founder of Baylor School's gardening program and Mechanics' Club.This is a story of authenticity and confidence, not shiny bluster.

This morning, the Hamilton County Commission will consider the future of McDonald Farm as Randall Gross - out of his Nashville-based consulting firm - drives to town to present to the Commission and public an economic impact study on the "highest and best" uses for McDonald Farm.

It is a mid-morning Monday on the 65-acre Boyd Buchanan campus and a dozen students in Melissa Owens's Agriscience class are planting yellow onion sets, moving zinnia transplants to the greenhouse, checking on - really, cuddling - the lop-eared bunny, tilling new beds, making plans for a fall flower sale.

Asheville's always felt like a sister city to us. Even though there's a list of 'official' sister cities - from Ghana to Germany - Asheville's like a kissing cousin, a brother from another mother-city.

What do you need to know in order to farm?That's the question being asked by Southeast Tennessee Young Farmers and Crabtree Farms, who are planning to offer free, farmer-led workshops on sustainable-ag topics next year.

We'd love - as in: really, really love - to see our Food as a Verb community this Thursday night. It's drop-in; come and go as you please. Doors open at 5pm. You're welcome to last-call shut the place down.

On Thursday evening, as Smash Boyz served last-call burgers from the grill and folks downed their second or third drink - Coors in a can, peach LaCroix, 16 oz. Liquid Death - while kicked back on folding chairs inside a Red Bank garage, Tyler Sowrey stepped out from behind the silver-sexy Slayer espresso machine and carried forward two cortados - half steamed milk, half espresso - poured into small, snow-white cups.

A farmer south of Nashville reminded us recently of the 2006 drought, which lasted two years.

We are strolling through Flying Turtle Farm, the 68 acres in Cloudland, Georgia, where Dorris Shober and husband John care for pigs, Brangus cattle, a spiral garden, vegetables and flowers - like celosia and zinnias, which Dorris gently talks about like they're dear friends - when this one question almost jumps out of my mouth.

Last night's debate. Did you watch? If so, did you make it all the way through the entire debate? Not us. Food was a topic, however briefly. Groceries are hard to afford. They're also apparently eating dogs in Ohio.

Since 2005, Erik and Amanda Niel have been exquisitely intentional about taking care of Chattanoogans, building their restaurant careers here on this very premise."We've made them feel comfortable," Amanda said. "If you're really good at it, people have an emotional connection."

Farmers speak on heat, drought and how we can help.

Today? We're exhaling, non-laboring for Labor Day and hope you will, too.

Said it before, will say it again: one of the greatest single-bite culinary experiences in this town is found inside the magic of a Cocoa Asante chocolate.

For our one-year birthday, we welcome to our new website home. We hope you love it. We sure do.

A big week for us here at Food as a Verb, which, of course, means you, too.

The more I talk with our local farmers, the more I realize: it's all generosity. It's all grown with love.

School started last week for thousands of local students, including elementary students at Battle Academy – pictured here at Honey Seed – as part of Tarah Kemp's outstanding Cooking Up Learning courses.

Claire Sims found the garden all the way from Wetumpka, Alabama, some 200 miles away. She grew up in a very strict church, whose beliefs – women can't preach in the pulpit or speak with authority – pushed her even farther away.

Earlier this week, the Tennessee Dept. of Agriculture (TDA) told Food as a Verb that $7.2 million in funding – it's the restored LFPA Plus money – would reach Tennessee food banks in mid-August.

Fifteen years ago, maybe longer, Miriam Keener had an idea."We need a farmer-run market," she said.

A friend is dying from cancer. He's receiving visitors, possibly for the final time. ("I should charge admission," he joked.) We all would pay double.

It's a strange, dizzying time for Highland Park and the 37404 zip code that stretches down Dodds Ave., across the foot of Missionary Ridge, onto the lively Main Street.

Morning, everyone. We at Food as a Verb – David, Sarah, Alex – have a little idea for you. For us.

Thursday morning, as he slid eight loaves, each stenciled and scored like artwork, into the Niedlov's Bakery & Cafe ovens, Erik Zilen – a little flour here, a lot of vision there – reached the end of a long journey.

Lookouts fans, remember the man who sold beer and peanuts through the stadium? Can you help us find him?

Eighteen-hour days and back again the next morning. Your back aches, brain feels like mush and you can't remember the last time you slept eight hours, had sex or watched Netflix – just one episode – all the way through.

Enjoy some hot slaw news, Dune-tomato-monster tips and original Food as a Verb poetry.

We're losing 10 acres of Tennessee farmland every hour of every day.

Two Sundays ago, our profile on Norton, one of the last small dairy farmers around, hit home with many of you.

In the fall of 2017, Stacy Martin was living in Atlanta – she'd soon move to Chattanooga – when she got the news: her mom was diagnosed with stage IV uterine cancer.

Not long after the pandemic, Mary Elizabeth Kaufman had an idea. Something that would try to mend or heal what had been lost.

Every day for the last 42 years, Sammy Norton has milked cows. Every morning, at 4.30. Every afternoon, again at 4.30.

One of our very first (and favorite) stories featured Alysia Leon and Bird Fork Farm on Cagle Mountain. Last September, we spent the afternoon with her: harvesting milky oaks, walking her land, marveling at her produce, orchard, herbal products.

Letty, Judy and Jane have known each other for seven years now, but it feels like a lifetime, the three bonded in ways only the heart understands.

We're unearthing some old content from the vault, going back more than a decade. It's good to know our history, so we're at work on collecting stories from the original Main St. Farmers' Market.

Anybody color their hair yesterday? Or ask for a loan? Apparently, Tuesday was a good day for that.

It's good to say thanks, good to let people know how much they mean to you. Gratitude fills the heart like a big red balloon. Softens the mind like an afternoon breeze.

"The work of the Chain Breakers and Miss V is so important," one reader said, "and I for one wanted to say a big thank you for giving it a spotlight.""I cried," said another.Another wrote what she called a "Sabbath prayer."

Once, Nate Carter begins, a man bought a birdcage. Inside, it was full of birds, but the birds were all locked up in this cage.That's why he bought it.

We'd love to see you. Stop by, shake hands, swap stories. We'll be selling good swag, like our debonair t-shirts and hats.

From their 400-acre Chili Pepper Ranch in Apison, Tenn., Jim and Amy Jo Osborn sell cuts of beef from over 200 head of cattle to hundreds of customers from Seattle to Miami to LA, all of whom ordered more than 60,000 pounds of meat last year.

Monday morning, before recess, a fourth-grader with braids named Zoey was at the far end of an eight-top table at Honey Seed on Market Street, working on a big business decision.

Meet Uncle Jim. Get soaked in the rain. Savor greens that took two years to perfect at a restaurant without any recipes.

Last Sunday, we published our beloved story on local beekeeper and Nooga Honey Pot founder Carmen Joyce. Visiting her, we also encountered what felt like a miracle: a swarming hive.

Not long ago, we went to one acre of Red Bank land for a routine afternoon interview with Carmen Joyce, a local beekeeper and owner of Nooga Honey Pot.What we found instead felt like a miracle.

Morning, everyone. Let's play trivia. Two questions for your Wednesday.The first: can anyone name Tennessee's official agricultural insect?

So, you're standing in line at the farmers' market, having arrived there way early – 30 minutes early – for one reason: fresh strawberries, which always sell out. It's your turn. How many do you buy?

At a farmers' market, the most splendidly transformative and radically countercultural thing happens.We buy food from a local farmer.

People begin arriving by 8.30 am. By mid-morning, there are two, three dozen cars and trucks in line. Tags from North Carolina, Florida, Georgia.They're here for one reason: Aubie Smith's strawberries.

In early March, Jeannine Carpenter, director of advocacy for the Chattanooga Area Food Bank, estimated there was a 20% chance that the missing $7.2 million would get restored. Maybe 25%.

On Thursday afternoon, as it passed its $52.8 billion budget, Tennessee lawmakers voted to restore $7.2 million in lost funding for small farmers, families and food banks.

This Sunday, we take you to Smith-Perry Berries Farm in Ooltewah, where beloved farmer and Ooltewah-native Aubie Smith harvests and sells the gorgeously good fruit from some 200,000 strawberry plants. Folks come from miles around. Easy to see why.

It takes five days to make croissants at Bread & Butter, the beloved bakery in Red Bank. Five days. By hand. You mix on a Monday, laminate on Tuesday, freeze, then shape, and by Friday, you bake. Five days.

Hope continues to grow in Nashville, where noble, bipartisan efforts are underway to refund the missing LFPA Plus money. Our last post described the stand-up efforts of Chattanooga's Bo Watson and Yusuf Hakeem, a Republican and Democrat, respectively, and so many others who are working the midnight shift to clean up the mistakes made by Tennessee Department of Agriculture, or TDA.

When you walk into a dinner hosted by Sujata Singh, you enter a warm, welcomed space complete with flowers, beautifully set tables and air filled with the the most delightful spices and herbs.

It was during COVID and St. Peter's Episcopal Church was worshipping outside. As Kelsey Aebi – St. Peter's lay minister – set up the altar, communion table and chairs, the warm sun fell on her shoulders and the birds sang from overhead trees and she realized:I love this. I love worshipping outside.

Last week, Mac's Kitchen & Bar celebrated its one-year anniversary with a "Farm and Fire" night that contained everything you want in a Saturday night: a long table of friends, cozy lights strung through the trees, warm fire pits, Lon Eldridge on the guitar and, most of all:Mac's food and drink.

After hours, days and weeks of talking with Nashville legislators, explaining to them how and why the state lost $7.2 million in funding for Tennessee farmers and food banks, the director of advocacy for the Chattanooga Area Food Bank may be witnessing this most beautiful event: a selfless, bipartisan response.

Good morning, Food as a Verb. Spring officially began this week, which means we're about one month away from our last frost date of the year.

Imagine if we graduated agriculturally literate students who, in the words of the National Research Council, could "understand the food and fiber system and this would include its history and its current economic, social and environmental significance to all Americans."

Wherever we go, whatever meal we're eating – from gas station pick-ups to white table cloth dinners – we create our present and future health by the selections on our plate. What we eat, our gut becomes. And what our gut becomes, our bodies become.

The USDA says it sent six separate funding notifications. Tennessee missed them all.

In October 2022, the Tennessee Department of Agriculture (TDA) announced big news: thanks to U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) funding, Tennessee would receive $8.2 million to be distributed among food banks, farmers and families across the state.

It feels like teenage Kenyatta – "skinny as a rail," he remembers – and his six siblings – one brother is 6'5", another 6'4" – are eating 100,000 calories a day. His mother, with some loaves-and-fishes power, is somehow able to provide. But she can't prevent brothers from being brothers.

Since we began publishing last August, one question has been quietly brewing in the back of my mind. As we travel across our regional food landscape, I've asked farmers, friends and agricultural leaders:

Working the land restores this connection in ways few other parts of modern life can. The very materials and methods present within farming are each wise teachers, each seed containing tiny scripted messages for us on life and how to receive it.

Welcome to all our new readers and friends. Thanks to Kristen Templeton's marvelous headliner story in Tuesday's NOOGAToday, our community at Food as a Verb grew a lot bigger overnight. 

Four years ago, Brad and Tara Smith were neck-deep in two careers – he was a landscape architect and planner; she, an elementary school principal – living near the Space Coast in historic and hip Ocala, Florida.

We're guest vending at the Main Street Farmers' Market this afternoon, 4 to 5.30 pm. Stop by and say hello; we'd love to see you and show off our new merchandise.

Ella Livingston's story could start with that moment – her moment – in Japan. Before Cocoa Asante became Chattanooga's luxury chocolate brand known across the world, Livingston was studying in Tokyo, 2013, when her entire perspective turned.

Imagine if everyone had stable levels of blood sugar.No more skyscraper highs. No more shaky, hangry, hand-me-the-peanut-butter-before-I-LOSE-IT-lows.Instead of helter-skelter, we could be stable throughout the day. Balanced. Calm, even.

The distance between Medellin and St. Elmo is not as far as you think.

Each Wednesday, so many of us buy our produce from Hernandez Family Farms. From the far side of Monteagle, Daniel, Jennifer and their children drive to the Main St. Farmers' Market, bringing affordable, gorgeous produce – sweet potatoes, spinach, arugula, squash, pumpkin bread – grown with love.

This year, the Chattanooga Area Food Bank will deliver, provide, donate and offer more food for hungry families and individuals than ever before in its 51-year history.

It began, as these things often do, over beer.Wintertime, 2012. The Olympics were on. Three old friends – Scott Shaw, John Coffelt and Tom Montague – were itching for, well, some wintertime fun.

For me, there was cantaloupe sliced in half-moon pieces with knives sharp enough to split hairs. And pimento cheese sandwiches on white bread served on plates the color of egg yolk. The crystal was high on shelves, out of reach, never used. Glass bottles of Coke and Lays chips and homemade chocolate sauce poured warm from pint Mason jars over peppermint stick ice cream.

Refugees for 17 years. Prison. Threats of regime violence. For the Alabid family, coming to Chattanooga was freedom from immeasurable fear. How to express gratitude?

This is the story of our city's urban farm looking backwards – its land, leaders say, was a place of horrific forced removal and plantation slavery – in order to shape the future.

There's some important history between Dr. King and Chattanooga. In 1960, he traveled to speak here, just months after our own downtown sit-ins, as white Chattanooga was boiling over.

During COVID, Hannah Wright began posting Instagram videos about diet and nutrition.That's good. Hannah, 37, is wise, grounded and has a keen and trained ear for discerning diet and nutrition truth from snake oily, exploitative motivations.

Two Wednesdays ago, we set up shop at the Main St. Farmers' Market. We had the grandest of afternoons, more fun, as Bobby Weir once said, than a frog in a glass of milk.

Olson is the owner of Scenic City Wine in St. Elmo. For the last 20 years, Olson, whose career shifted to wine during culinary school, has been immersed in the global wine scene, from distribution to importing to enjoying. As he loves to say:

While other Asian cuisines have found success in Chattanooga, Filipino food and culture are lesser known. But a few local Pinoys are changing that with food trucks and grocery stores aiming to serve all Chattanoogans.

In churches across the region, the communion sacrament takes many forms: wafers, crackers, pieces of store-bought bread. In Red Bank, loaves are baked by hand, from scratch, in prayer.

Today at 4pm, Food as a Verb will be guest vending at the Main St. Farmers' Holiday Market until 5.30 pm in the parking lot adjacent to Finley Stadium.

In Sewanee, three friends are growing gourmet mushrooms inside a renovated wood shop. There are foggy fruiting tents, a machine called the Swirling Death Blender and gorgeously good (and sexy) mushrooms. What's not to love?

Sunday, we profiled the outstandingly talented Mallory Grimm and her compelling vision for local food and sustainability at LUNCH, located on the edge of The University of the South's campus on beautiful Monteagle mountain.

Mallory Grimm left a thriving Nashville business to move back to Sewanee and open a restaurant devoted to local food and community. Folks are gushing.

On Sunday, we told the story of Gwen, a grandmother in Tyner working two jobs, living with four other people in a two-bedroom apartment and struggling with a stack of bills over an inch thick.

Gwen works two jobs: an eight-hour shift offering sit-in home health care that also includes 12-hour shifts every other weekend. In her spare moments – late afternoons, Sundays – she sells government-issued phones from nearby parking lots.

As travel nurses working in Everett, Washington, in 2020, Amy Dunham and Steven McKinney were some of the first people to experience the Covid-19 pandemic as frontline healthcare professionals. After long shifts tending to sick patients in the ER of a mid-size city near Seattle, the couple would return to their temporary home on Whidbey Island, a regenerative agriculture farm where Amy's brother shears sheep and raises livestock in a healthy and humane way.

Last Thursday, with the 200 block of MLK Ave. closed to traffic, Sharon Palmer of East Lake relaxed at a white table seated on the westbound side of the double yellows as a November wind blew light orange leaves from the maple trees nearby.