Almanacs date back to the Middle Ages. Giving forecasts of weather, the movement of heavenly bodies, recipes, advice on planting and soil, the almanac has a particular connection to farming. The Farmers’ Almanac has been published continuously in the US since 1818 and also exists in an annual Canadian version. Both Earth to Table and A Year in Lucy’s Kitchen are, in their different ways, almanacs. Jeff Crump and Bettina Schormann divide their book into chapters about spring, summer, fall, and winter foods, with advice about foraging and planning an herb garden as well as profiles of celebrity chefs who have made local ingredients the cornerstone of their restaurants. A Year in Lucy’s Kitchen follows a similar organization except that Lucy Waverman devotes chapters to each of the twelve months. “With March,” she writes in the almanac mode, “comes an inevitable restlessness—winter is nearly over but spring has not quite arrived. It is time to bring in the sun even if it is just in your menu” (68). At the same time, Waverman offers menus for celebratory days, including a Robbie Burns Night Supper, Chinese New Year, Passover, Victoria Day, Thanksgiving, and “Deconstructed Hanukkah.” Waverman’s recipes, relentlessly multicultural, range from “Banofee Pie” to “Mollusk Medley with Wasabi Sauce.” By contrast, Earth to Table—written in the first-person singular about experiences that are clearly Crump’s rather than Schormann’s—adheres closely to American and European classic recipes, with local variations, such as gnudi and braised lamb shanks. In a brief introduction to A Year in Lucy’s Kitchen, Waverman acknowledges that “more and more people” are eating at home because it is environmentally and economically the right thing to do: “[w]ith the rebirth of farmers’ markets, a food movement has emerged that looks to local, seasonal and sustainable food as the healthiest, most environmentally sensitive way to eat” (9). More and more people might believe in the virtues of local food, but Waverman merely pays lip service to the idea. In a note about April foods, she writes, “[f]oraging is a food tradition that I support, and this month you can find some exciting fresh green tastes—both in the wild and at the market” (86). Foraging does not mean shopping at the market; it means finding and harvesting your own food. In Waverman’s Weltanschauung, other people forage while she shops at the nearest grocery store. In a recipe called “Chicken with Green Peas and Morels,” listed as a suitable dish for May, Waverman gives away her indifference to the pleasures of local and seasonal recipes: “[d]uring a weekend in Paris, Bruce [Waverman’s husband] and I sought out restaurants that were very fine but not Michelin starred. We wanted to go to bistros that were chef-owned and where food was prepared with love and care” (124). The inspiration for the dish is unabashedly French, not at all local, and there is nothing especially seasonal about chicken with peas and morels. “Substitute oyster mushrooms or soaked dried morels if fresh morels are not available,” she counsels (128). So much for morels found in a Canadian woodlot in springtime. If her recipes are any indication, Waverman takes for granted that ingredients are available year-round in some form, as indeed they are in supermarkets where global, packaged food prevails. Slow Food, she implies, has its limits. It takes time; it is less efficient to produce; ingredients cost more. Not every chef has the time to root up morels or the expertise to raise and butcher rabbits. Jeff Crump also acknowledges that good, local food can be more expensive. On the other hand, he argues that farming …