The local food buzz has been going strong for a while now.  There was Michael Pollan (who I still haven’t read, sorry to let you down, book club, you’ve been so good to me, you don’t deserve that), there were the farmers’ markets in Dupont, in Chinatown, everywhere, there was Michelle Obama’s White House garden, then there was me.

That’s right.  I am about to pass judgement on the entire local food movement, based entirely on my satisfaction with the food I receive on my doorstep from Arganica Farm Club tomorrow evening.

I picked up a flyer for a free four-week trial from Arganica at Crafty Bastards a few weeks ago.  Arganica purports to bring you friendlier, more informed and varied but also delicious food.  Through an order form sent out on Sunday evening, they bring you your choice of meat, dairy, fruit and veg, baked goods, juices and wine from farms located hours from DC, all by Thursday evening.

The whole thing has the air of wholesome friendliness wafting all over it.  The food buddies (I will call them) know the farmers, pick out the best of the best of their wares, learn all about it, bring it to your door, and deliver it while you’re still at your desk job.  You wish you could be like them, but you could never be that wholesome.  Or that friendly.

But wholesome friendliness comes with a price.  Think Whole Foods and up.

Will it be worth it?  Will I again sink into the slough of despond that is Kraft Mac & Cheese?  Or will my interest in local food be picqued enough to get back into cropmobbing and cooking with multiple ingredients?

We will have the answer…tomorrow.

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