Monthly Archives: February 2009

On salad

img_0557Fresh from the greenhouses, in a Michigan February

As a city-living vegetarian, I really considered salads to be somewhat overrated.  Maybe I took all those “how can you subsist on rabbit food” comments to heart, but I mostly found salads disappointing after all the preparation that went into making them.  I ate them, sure; still, my heart was not in it.

Nowadays, though?  Now I love the stuff.  I love picking it, I love washing it, I love preparing it…I love my Sunday-afternoon salad-dressing sessions.  Maybe it’s a zen thing, this time that it takes to pick/wash/dry, with some chopping thrown in.

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Green onions, Par-Cel cuttting celery, Flakee carrots, purple-top turnip, and purple kohlrabi

I really love the noise of the knife hitting the cutting board:  thock thock thock.

Maybe I’ve just got a mild case of Stockholm syndrome:  loving one’s oppressors.  Wait:  who’s holding whom hostage:   do I own my greenhouses or do they own me?

We interrupt the regularly scheduled blog…

img_0598…to bring you goose eggs!

On summer greenhouse crops

img_0579This small bag should be enough to grow lots of out-of-hand snacking this autumn

I got a little bit of legume love in the mail this week:  Peanuts!

The envelope was sorely needed, too:  dirty, green thoughts on a cold and snowy day.  Winter still holds us in her sharp teeth, though daily, that sun gets stronger.  Birdsong is more varied, and loud.  And I heard and saw my first migrating cranes yesterday.

These greenhouses really do bump your zone numbers up by 1-1/2 or 2, depending on the season.  (Seriously:  go check out that link to find out what you are.  I\’m 6b here.)  So last spring I realized I needed a radical rethink on the types of crops grown in the HOThouses they become during the summer.  I thought:  well, heck.  My model is a bit further south than a Michigan summer.

Yes, I am thinking Georgia/South Carolina/Tennessee/Alabama/Louisiana: an 8a/8b.  Someplace hot and steamy!  SO this summer season\’s crops include peanuts, sweet potatoes, okra and tomatillos…all joining the tomatoes, eggplant and peppers that grew so spectacularly well under that greenhouse plastic last year.  So here’s part of my order of Tennessee Valencia peanuts from Southern Exposure Seed Exchange.  I can’t wait.

On untamed creatures

img_0525Excuse the blur that is this moving target:  I accept her wild-eyed, floppy-combed self, bad habits and all, and she mostly accepts mine.

Farm animals keep you honest.  Really, they do.  They have schedules, they have needs, they don’t accept much slacking on the parts of their owners.  It’s actually a good and deep relationship that can develop, even if it’s between you and a simple chicken.

When we got our most recent batch of laying hens two springs ago, I almost drew the line on Pauline, the white Leghorn.  Leghorns (excepting Foghorn) are egg-laying machines (indeed:  many white industrial eggs come from Leghorns) and they’re skittish:  I like a more calm bird.  But my daughter really wanted that little yellow chick, and I conceded, with reservations.  Sure enough, she’s an egg-laying machine.  And she’s easily spooked!  Such is the monkey-see of chick-raising, her habit was picked up by all four other chicks, so much so that only in puberty did they come back to their true, calm natures…while Pauline remains a squawking idiot.

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But hey, a flighty, squawking egg machine can be a lot of fun!  I think often about all her sisters and cousins who’re spending their short lives, 5 to a cage the size of a cat carrier, laying endlessly until they become soup or–horrors–nuggets.  Pauline lives her life as she pleases, flying out of the coop and henyard, determined as ever to satisfy her desires.  It only took me about a week to realize I wasn’t getting a daily egg from her, only one every other day:  as the only white egg of the bunch, hers are distinctive.  A bit of bushwacking and building-searching led me to find her cache hidden behind a hay bale and atop barncat Edie’s straw-bale bed.

On getting one’s goat

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Or not.

We’ve decided to put off becoming dairy goat owners for a year.  The reason?  The economy.

Yea, verily:  Who’d have thought that goat-owning would be a casualty of the economic downturn, but frankly we cannot make the numbers work for this year.  Like many other people, we’re in the unenviable position of [freaking out] about what 2009 holds for us.  We’ve decided to invest, instead, in some needed and unavoidable farm repairs.  Yes, for this year, things like Roof For Garage trump Cute Nubian Goats.  Totally unfun, but then again, we already own the garage, etc., so it makes sense to take care of one’s current investments.

_dsc0977Where’s The Child?  Here she is, playing with 18 pregnant Nubian does

In a sense, it’s a bit of a relief that we’ve made this decision.  There is a lot of work to be done before we get one (shed, fencing), and now we’ve got the time to check these things off our list.

I’m a bit disappointed, I will admit.  We are, however, doing all we’re doing with the long view in mind:  I will instead be very excited this time next year.  Hopefully.

_dsc0942Aren’t they the cutest things?

On even quicker real bread

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So.  I’m a breadmaker, or rather, I fear not the whole yeasty/kneady/loafing thing, and I make all our bread.  I *love* to knead, too.  But I mentioned Jim Lahey’s bread a while back and, like most great ideas, his No-Knead Bread and variations have really caught on.  I wish Jim well, really I do, but I found an even easier recipe that you guys should try.

Considering I have more time on my hands in the winter, you’d think shaving minutes off my plush schedule wouldn’t be a priority, but hey.  It’s my duty to serve YOU, especially all of you who claim you’re too pressed for time to bake bread.  This is very similar to the kneadless bread, but… you simply make a bunch of dough and leave it in the refrigerator (for up to 2 weeks) until you’re ready to bake some of it.  And just like the kneadless recipe it’s not the best on the 2nd day, but because you’re making a lot of dough, it’s easily parceled out for smaller loaves.  It does require a bit of a thaw before it goes in the oven (enabling its final rise), and it helps if you have a pizza stone (the underside of a cast-iron skillet also works) and a pizza peel (a lipless cornmeal-covered cookie sheet works too).  The recipe suggests you leave the dough in a covered plastic bowl.  We’re anti-plastic around here so ours lives in a glass bowl with a tightly-fitting plate atop of it.

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This recipe works fairly well too to simply pull a hunk or two out to bake in the morning.  I’ve rolled out cigar-sized pieces and covered them in cinnamon and sugar, and I’ve made a kind of English muffin with them too.  Because the dough stays cold, it tends to use my whole-wheat flour to best advantage.  So, well, give it a try!  The weekend is coming, spring’s not here yet, and you should still have time!

The Master Recipe:  The Boule (Artisan Free-Form Loaf) from Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day by Jeff Hertzberg and Zoe Francois

Makes 4 1-pound loaves

3 cups lukewarm water
1 1⁄2 tbsp granulated yeast (1 1⁄2 packets)
1 1⁄2 tbsp coarse kosher or sea salt
6 1⁄2 cups unsifted, unbleached, all-purpose white flour
Cornmeal for pizza peel

Read the rest of the instructions HERE or HERE.  See their blog and more recipes HERE.

The tyranny has begun

img_0569What gardener doesn’t love the seed-starting season?  THIS ONE.

Dang, it’s true.  Perhaps I need to shell out a few hundred bucks for some hours of deep on-the-couch analysis, but…I hate the tyranny that is indoor seed-starting.  I think I always have, consciously or not.  Unlike other garden-related tasks that are both necessary and at least as messy, the whole lights/dirt/action dealio really is not my bag.  With each year, with each modification I make to the process (mostly to ease my annoyance, not necessarily the betterment of the seeds), the less I really like it.

So, I ask myself what I can do to get around this dislike.  I have NO problem with starting seeds out of doors, and I even look forward to starting seeds in the greenhouse.  Problem is, quite a few plants like both more light than is provided by the greenhouse at this time of year, and most seedlings dislike the temperature swings the greenhouse still goes through daily.  But I do ask myself:  what’s the flipping hurry?  Why chain myself to the expense, mess and agitta of fluorescent lights?

Because I LIKE the allium family, the solanaceae family.  Alliums, in the form of storage onions, have this unmovable growth pattern that is tied to the sun:  they bulb up the best when there’s the most daylight, so every day is a march toward that date, and the earlier you get marching, the bigger and better the plants will be.  Tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, tomatillos, and okra like a nice, warm seedbed befitting their near-tropical ancestry.  It is quite true that I could start these heat-lovers in the greenhouses themselves in late April, and just expect a later harvest.  But storage onions and leeks, no, these babies require those lights.

I just need to get over it, don’t I?

But it’s what’s for dinner

img_0517Family portrait in the smoker’s lid

I have a bit of a confession to make.  Actually, it’s not much of a confession to anyone who knows me, but…meat ain’t really my thing.

This is said with somewhat clenched lips, with a slight sucking-in of breath:  meat, after all, is what we are told to crave.  It’s what’s for dinner if you believed the hype, and if you grew up in 50s-80s America, its nightly presence normally took up most of your plate.   THIS household became omnivorous only recently: Oct. of 2007, to be exact.  I put meat back in the diet when we began to find humane sources nearby and then last year to raise our own.  The girl wanted it, the husband wanted it, and, in reality, it’s a fairly low-impact source of nutrition if you live a locavore’s life in a snowy place like Michigan.

img_0508Molasses-glazed bone-in pork shoulder, a-smoking over our apple wood

I am much more in love with meat when it remains off the center/majority of the plate.  As a condiment, as a flavoring, it’s really quite exemplary, and really ridiculously easy too.  (Frankly I think my ho-hum reaction to that full freezer is that the preparation of meat requires very little of me.  Not quite heat-and-serve, it’s still not much of a challenge to cook if you’ve been used to the alchemy required of vegetarian cookery.)  So when I saw a recipe recently for “bacon” made with smoked pork shoulder, I told Tom to get out the smoker and let’s get cooking.  I can use the “bacon” in many meals, bean-y, vegetable-y meals, for the whole week.  And after a little skillet frying, it makes this weeknight’s serving of breakfast-for-dinner a little more smokily special.

On bird brains

img_9664Luckily she doesn’t need to get by on her smarts

“She’s not going to be a Rhodes scholar,” I told Tom this morning when I came in from doing my chores.

“Oh no.  What did she do?”

Nope; I wasn’t talking about our daughter.  I found the hen turkey (our farmyard favorite) attacking her image in the dressing mirror that Tom broke this weekend.  It took me a bit of effort to pull her away from the mirror, to put the mirror in the garbage can (where it should’ve been to begin with but let’s not mention that, shall we) and to console her that she’d done a great job.

Poor girl.  And I was singing her praises recently about how smart she was, too….

On pacing oneself

img_0481Brune d’hiver lettuce, back from near-death

What a difference a week makes!    The warmup has definitely kicked things up a notch or two in the greenhouses.  All my November and December seeds have sprung, I now see all the garlics, the chives are emerging, and all the freezer-burnt lettuces have put out shiny new growth.

img_0491November-sown Winter Marvel spinach

This should not surprise me, of course, but it does.  Being a gardener, one learns (not quickly) that TIME is one’s friend, even if it is not the friend of some garden plants.  Time has the ability to heal all your stupidly overreaching expectations.  Sure,  there are many patches in our digging lives where life is terribly short and the growing season even shorter, but becoming an earnest vegetable gardener is about understanding time, about thinking longer term.  The ease of simply buying one’s onions seems like cheating after a while.

That said, I do tend to get into a panic if I see the END of a harvest happening (let’s say the near-dead greenhouse lettuces planted last October) and the jump of time needed to span until the next harvest.  Those Nov/Dec seedlings aren’t going to be ready in time to have a continuous supply of salad stuff.   So I am quite glad the dead lettuces have had their Lazarus moment.  It will bridge that gap.

Spring, you see, is still a long way off from where I stand.

More false spring

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Sunday, and today

The warmup continues here.  The heat is off, and it was in the low 60s last night at the time supper was ready to be eaten:  I was seriously tempted to set up a  table outside.

img_0449Front to back: Maggie, Pauline and Bloody Beatrice working the Three Sisters beds

Everyone is stir-crazy.  All the chickens escaped their pen and–don’t knock the bird-brain–ran right into the garden 100′ away.  I had no idea they were out, and, rounding the corner to see the garden, I thought I’d been hit by a plague of rabbits or something.  Nope; just chickens.  Worms are easily found below the mulch on the tops of the raised beds.

You know, though, it’s lots easier to get your chores done when you can actually feel your fingers.  I got lots of outdoor work done (fence-fixing, repairing the coop door, compost-turning) and it felt really great.  Surely this warm weather won’t last, but it was nice to visit.

On long-distance luxury items

cake

It was Tom’s birthday this weekend and he requested a chocolate cake.  A flourless chocolate cake, natch.

In the interest of both Valentine’s day and in good world practices in general, I thought I would tell you how we addressed the man’s “need” for this cake.  Cake:  I have never been a big fan.  It always seemed to me that the frosting was much more worthwhile than the item it frosted, so, on my birthdays, I like berry pies, befitting a July birthday.  But Tom loves all kinds of cake and really wanted this flourless one, with a recipe he’s used for years to much fanfare.

Our two not-local-but-still-gotta-have-it items are coffee and chocolate, and the ratio to which these items are readily consumed in the house is about 150:1.  It is a no-brainer for us that these buzz-inducing luxury items be fair traded and organic…along with being shade-grown.  I don’t need a little rain forest deforestation with my morning jolt, nor can I sanction a little child slavery with my chocolate cake.  Our coffee comes from a like-minded friend who is a hobbyist roaster:  we buy in 10# quantities, and the UPS driver either loves us or hates us depending on where our delivery is on her work day, as that is one mighty smelly box.  The coffee is whole-bean, and it gets thrown in the freezer to be used as needed.  Cocoa, though, comes from here as baker’s cocoa and semisweet bars.

But hey:  despite the fact that this cake has lots of long-distance ingredients, the six eggs, the sugar and the butter are local!  Recipe in the comments.

On warmups

img_0378Engaging in a little light therapy in the old greenhouse, 4:00 on Sat. afternoon; 85*F and sunny.  (Light and wine therapy, I suppose, for me.)  The 5 gal. bucket holds melted snow, the cat is searching for voles, the dog is watching the cat and the child is happily watering the lettuces.

We had a bit of a thaw this weekend.  It got to be a record-setting 55*F on Saturday.  Though this is a nice change, it tends to make us all a bit stir-crazy and spring-willing.

I had not quite realized how much snow we had gotten until some of it melted.  There are now tufts of grass down at the bottoms of the paths that Tom had snowblown about the property:  the geese and turkeys have flown their pen in search of this greenery, and cannot be tempted to return until the sun goes down.  This is understandable.  But here’s a funny thing I hadn’t quite realized was happening until, well, until some of the snow had melted.

Have you ever miscalculated how many steps there were on a run of stairs and you stomped, searching for that last step that isn’t there?  It spooks you, doesn’t it, and your heart skips a beat.  Well.  The snow was so deep that, even in the areas we’d plowed, I was literally stepping down into every outbuilding, pen, garden, and greenhouse, and I had gotten used to it.  It’s kind of like a step had slowly grown at the entry into one’s living room, say, or one’s kitchen.  Well, I stepped out of the greenhouse, stomped, and nearly twisted an ankle.  Yipes!  No snow!

(And I can’t blame the wine because it was 8:00 a.m. at the time.)

Greenhouse update

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Yes, that’s snow on the outside!

It’s been a (select an adjective) winter this year, which is news to nobody, but its severity has particular relevance for the greenhouse-wannabe gardener.  To you I say:  There is hope, but not much hope was to be found in the past two months.

img_0335This sad-looking celery is still actually holding on; I figured it would up and die, so it was a bit of a successful experiment.  I do pick around this plant often; it’s actually quite huge…and I will also let it go to seed this spring.

I have done a fair bit of cleanup and cleaning out of the new (Nov. 2008 ) greenhouse since my last update of it.  Many of the greens have been consumed by the turkeys, geese and us, but more than is usual (that is, maybe 10-15%) became worthless packets of green cellulosic mush.  Seriously gross slimy stuff!  I blame the wet weather we had in the fall…I don’t think the greenhouse ever got a chance to dry up before we put the plastic on.  (Normally, this is a fine thing:  one needn’t water in the winter, you see, if the beds are damp when the hot weather stops.  The greenhouse doesn’t let any of that moisture escape…and there’s my problem in the new greenhouse this winter: the beds were sopping.)  I also believe that larger plants (most of the lettuces were fairly large when the frosts came and stayed) do less well than smaller plants.  It’s too bad I can never tell when the cold is going to come and stay or I would plant small plants accordingly.

The old (Oct. 2007 ) greenhouse was underplanted this winter and many of its beds were allowed a season’s rest.  But the cold has affected this stalwart (high and dry) greenhouse as well, as the seeds I had planted in November and December are as yet no-shows!  Likewise the garlic hasn’t made much of an appearance.  It really must be cold in there, and, checking my records, it is:  it’s not that it’s necessarily colder (both winters experienced 18*F lows) but it hasn’t gotten as hot…the hottest day in there being only 80*F, averaging 50* during the day.  Last winter it was regularly in the 70-90* highs, with a 60* day average range…so this winter, on top of being cold and snowy has been dark and cloudy, too.

Okay, mostly bad news, right?  Well, there are some highlights.  And mostly these highlights are calendar-based:  the earth is tilting, and with that change comes more sun, and with more sun comes warmer greenhouses.  In the interim, we’re all still eating plenty of…salad!img_0348-1

On gnocchi

img_0357Riced potatoes, salted and peppered and ready for some flour

I had a friend in graduate school who, during one of our late nights in the studio, asked us to answer this one question of ourselves:  Dairy?  Vegetable?  Meat?  or Bread?

Undoubtedly, I selected Bread, with Vegetable as runner-up.  I am complex-carbohydrate obsessed, or at least I certainly was back then to handle the late nights of grad school.  Now, well, now I like to diversify.  But I have always made a mean gnocchi:  heavenly little potato dumpling-like pasta.  And hey, with this one little dish I do hit the two main categories, bread and veg!  And then of course you can serve it in a butter, cream and meat sauce…my favorite treatment of course being stinky melty blue cheese.

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Someone asked about the potato ricer I mentioned in my last post.  Here it is, and notice, there’s that very intriguing CRANK.  (I think it’s Crank Week here at Old Vines, seeing as I have brought out my old beater, the old meat grinder and now the ancient ricer all within a calendar week.)  I figured it’s time for one of my favorite dishes, NeeOHkee. They’re pretty easy to make.  You don’t necessarily need the ricer but it certainly helps make airy and light little puffs, and makes the most wonderful mashed potatoes too so it’s a fairly useful tool.  Having a light touch with the kneading (you don’t want to overly glutenize either the flour or the spuds) AND with the flour too is helpful, not to put too much pressure on you or anything.  Anyway, the recipe is in the comments.   Bon appetit.

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A little mixy, a little kneady, a little rolly…then chop and shape/roll with a fork.  Let dry slightly, then into a pot of boiling salted water they go.  Then, once they float, drain them and serve.

So, tell me:  Dairy, Vegetable, Meat or Bread?

On soup, and sausage

img_0330Sausage/leek soup with potatoes and carrots

I have lately been in the habit of making sausage.  It’s not hard to do, frankly, and like nearly everything else (breadmaking, soups, etc.) sausage is a vast and deep category, accepting thousands of variations.  Mostly, with all the meat (1/2 pig, 1/4 cow, 40 chickens) in the freezer, I am in serious need of uses for the less-than-prime pieces of it, and sausage is a great outlet for the tougher bits of flesh.  I find that getting out the hand grinder is a meditative task, and like the pasta roller or potato ricer or even the food mill, using the crank is so appealing that even the five year old here stays interested enough to complete the task.

But soups:  save the ubiquitous chicken soup, our weekly soup is usually a vegetarian affair.  It’s a habit, frankly, borne out of 16 years of vegetarianism:  I just don’t think to grab a hunk of flesh to sex up my soups, you know?  Entirely unnecessary.

Until, that is, you make about 3 lbs. of sausage that you can’t refreeze:  how about using some of it in soup?  Indeed.

The morning rush

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Clown car or nesting box?  You decide.

On cross-quarter festivals

For the past few years I’ve picked up The Old Farmer’s Almanac at the feed store in November for the coming year.  It’s a bit of a lark, really.  It normally sits on my nightstand, vying for space with the 6-20 books I am juggling at any one time.  I find it a fun flip-through, a kind of pocket agrarian Wiki, that gives me a tiny something to think about before I turn out the light.  I flipped through it Friday night and realized that, thankfully, Candlemas is on Monday.  Candlemas, Groundhog Day, Imbolc:  all three of these quasi-religious festivals overlay an important earth-based event.  It’s the halfway (cross-quarter) point between winter solstice and spring equinox.

Yay!

After a long winter like this one, I can see the need for a party, even if it’s only to celebrate the fact that we’ve made it through half the winter.  Now raise a glass with me, will you?

*Interesting thing about Imbolc:  this is the day that The Winter Goddess (Cailleach, an old woman) in Celtic lore would gather her firewood for winter.  If it was sunny, then she’d have enough light to gather more wood, thus meaning the winter would be longer.  Does that sound familiar?

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