Monthly Archives: April 2010

On this week’s goat milk adventure

I bring you fudge!

Of the two books I have on using the products of one’s home dairy, I have teed off fairly roundly on the one, but I haven’t said anything about the other.  “The other” would be a slim spiral-bound book called, crazily, Goats Produce Too:  The Udder Real Thing, Cheese Making And More Volume II by Mary Jane Toth.  Once I got beyond the utter church-ladies-recipe-book style of  the thing in both format, tone and (frankly) badly written instructions, I have decided that the late Mary Jane Toth is my hero in all things dairy.  (Deep bow.)

The fudge was a start.

Don’t judge a book by its cover says the nag in my head.  Surely, there’s plenty of appeal to Ricki Carroll’s book: it’s glossy, there are 75 recipes in it, plenty of pictures and how-to’s and it’s gone through the hands of an editor and a graphic designer but goodness you get to a recipe, get all excited to make it and realize DUH you don’t have the one thing needed to make the cheese happen:  and in 74 of 75 cases that one thing is something she’s glad to sell you.  There is nothing inherently wrong with this.  It just means 1.  I should really read the recipe closely and 2.  I should continue the idea that my cheese will continue to cost me money in terms of ordering the stuff to make it.

But Ms Toth’s book is refreshing, despite its lack of panache.  It’s totally commonsensical.  And:  you don’t need to pay her a dime to make cheese, or anything else dairy-related.  In point of fact, you can get many of her recipes for free on the internet, and most of the needed ingredients right out of your refrigerator (yogurt as thermophilic starter, buttermilk as mesophilic).

Incidentally, I have never made fudge before.  It was tasty, and chewy…or I should say “is” because I am sure it will take us weeks to eat it all!

On spring’s progress

Yes I realize that ancillary farm concerns like goats, bunnies, and winemaking have hijacked this erstwhile gardening blog of late.  And I do apologize to all who check in to, you know, talk plants!  It’s been fairly boring blogging lately on that score.

Not much to see out here

And, walking around the gardens today over lunch, I realize the outdoor gardens are going to be pretty boring this year too.  Unlike in past years, I am all caught up with my plantings for the end of April, and so everything planted is “up”.  It’s fun saying “it’s all up,” at least to myself…it’s gratifying to see the favas and peas break the soil, and the hopeful, strong spurts of greenery from the potatoes.  But boring!  Easily a third of the beds are dedicated JUST to peas, favas, onions, and potatoes…I would say 20% of all the beds out there are potatoes alone.  Potatoes, at least after their early shoots, are decidedly unsexy garden plants.

Am I expressing a bias?  “SUBSISTENCE FARMING IS NOT SEX-AY.”  The high calorie foods like potatoes, corn and carrots really aren’t traffic-stopping beauties when found in your garden beds.  Sorry.  It’s true.

Lots to see in here

Maybe you just need flowers to be sexy.  There aren’t many flowers from edible plants at this time of year, but at our place plenty of horticultural eyecandy can be found going to seed in the greenhouses.  The low-calorie foods (lettuces, kales, onions) are putting on quite a show!  And, considering that so few of them will be allowed to complete the seed cycle yet still have high value as goat and rabbit food, they’re allowed to go ahead and look their blushing best.

Mike’s Wild Red lettuce (what a hit:  a romaine/looseleaf cross, quite striking really (thanks, Mike!))

Perennial bunching onions doing their seed thing

Nothing like the enthusiasm of 5′ tall sorrel and kale plants

Ruby Red Chard says “don’t hate me because I am beautiful”

But the red sails lettuce says “harvest me already”

Not to be forgotten is the “old” greenhouse, which, while not exactly riotous with flowers, is plenty green

On growing goats

Number 3, 1, and 2, or, Chip, Skip and Kip

Our goat kids are two months old today!  And they’re growing like weeds.

Two up,  one down, and Mama looking for an exit

Do you know how hard it is to take photos of them?  It’s nearly impossible.  Please make do with these; they’re rather fast moving targets.

Wow: they’re standing still

They’re rambunctious for sure, and ready to go to their new home.  The family who is taking them will also take some of our turkey poults when they hatch (Ruby is sitting on 19 eggs at last count…hopefully I will have a few to spare), so the babies will be with us for another week or two.

And:  we met their replacement this weekend!  Yes, we’re actually trading three boys for a girl, such is the value of dairy doelings in the world.  I am sorry I didn’t take photos, she’s adorable, having just been born on the 21st.  You’ll see plenty of pictures of her soon enough, though.

On first cheeses

Well, my first cheesemaking experiment with home-grown milk was successful.

I started simple.  At my first tasting of it (a chevre, which is a fresh “farmhouse” style cheese) I was so very surprised how normal it tasted.  Hey, this tastes like goat cheese!  I guess I can say I was surprised at my reaction, as, well, it was a goat I got the milk from and everything.  But home gardeners know well this shift in expectation that I was anticipating:  the homegrown is so much different than the stuff you buy at the store, shipped from who knows where.  Vive la difference! I anticipated this cheese to taste wildly different, too.

Granted, my benchmark wasn’t the carageenan-thickened grocery store gunk but a local cheese purveyor’s chevre:  her stuff is awesome.  When the timing is right, she tops her cheese with fennel pollen and some lavender buds, ya-yum.

chevre with finely minced chives, marjoram, parsley and thyme; I also made straight ricotta from the whey and my cider vinegar

But of course the engineer in me wants to fiddle with the process.  Okay, cheesemakers out there:  let’s come up with edible cheesecloth.  My goodness how much of that good cheese gets stuck to the cloth!  I used butter muslin and then a synthetic muslin on the ricotta, both stuck after dripping dry for nearly 24 hours.  Sigh.  Any takers?

On home-grown hooch

Yard weeds?  I say “revenge.”

My husband is the kind of neat freak who, when not otherwise occupied, loves to do things like change the furniture arrangements.  (Can you tell I hate having furniture moved.)  He’s also one to neaten cabinets and go through closets and tidy books on their shelves.  Hey: I am all for clean, but please leave my pantry and kitchen alone!  And mostly he listens, but sometimes he can’t help himself.  He tidied my pantry this week and I am truly going mad trying to find things.

(Please, someone send him a commission soon so he gets out of my hair.)

So it’s with a little hidden mirth that I know I am driving him bonkers by having two types of cheese starter and one batch of cheese doing their microbial thing on the kitchen counter.  And next to the cheese stuff is a bowl of a new sourdough starter.  Oh, and there’s the yogurt brewing in its cooler on the floor, and the kombucha perched on the butcher block:  say “SCOBY” and just watch him squirm!

But my own version of marital spat?  Stinky dandelions steeping in the pantry!  It’s for my first batch of dandelion wine.  muahhahah!

The pots are out! Is it canning season already?

Actually, no.  What’s begun?  Cheesemaking Season!

bubble hiss bubble hiss

But what Cheesemaking Season requires of me first is a whole bunch of culture-making.  Thus, Monday night saw many pots on the boil, some to make buttermilk, some to make fresh starter, some to make thermophilic starter*. Oh, and one held the milk for the week’s yogurt, too.  I wonder how I thought those two gallons of milk would be all for me?  They’re not!  It’s all for The Greater Cheesemaking Cause.

I am really glad the girl decided that tonight, of all nights, she’d go to bed early.  I love having her around but multitasking isn’t something I do well if I am attempting something new.  And new-to-me things like a whole mess of cheese prep means I am all tense between the shoulderblades, fussing around, clucking like a mother hen as to is this right?  did I do this right? when my normal modus operandi is a lot more…chill.  I hate that tight feeling!  Luckily, the gods of yeast clued our ancestors in to create a cure:  it’s called a glass of wine.  I honor their creation by taking a sip and I think, well, centuries of cheesemakers’ kitchens weren’t as clean as mine, what’s my worry?

With luck this process will go more smoothly than my fussing around tonight.

I do have a lot of dairy goodness ahead of me, though.  Getting used to the new routine will be interesting.  And then there’s goat’s milk soap, kefir, etc. etc. to make…


*why bother with all the starters?  Well, it bugs me to no end, the idea that I have to be beholden to some company or another to supply me the goods to actually make something.  Can’t I d.i.y.?  And what would Ma Ingalls do?  Indeed.  It just takes planning and prep work, like tonight.  And buying someone’s starters, then multiplying them for future use.  Considering this is all a grand experiment, I would rather go through the process and THEN tell you how successful it all is.  That’s only fair; no sense your repeating my mistakes, no?

Bunnies for sale!

Hey:  have a yen for a funny little bunny?  Live nearby?  Willing to part with $15?  Then email me!

You know you want one

Pedigreed Mini-Rex bunnies for sale:  black and black otter in color, born 3/3/10, just weaned, six total.  Super soft and cuddly!  Both parents are small, under 4 pounds.  $15 each.

On building new greenhouses

The base frame:  2x8s.  The skinny bed is the path.

It’s going to take a couple of posts, but I wanted to show you the process of building a greenhouse (hoophouse, polytunnel, etc.) for my mom.  It’s a 10′x12′ complete kit from Growers’ Solution.  We’re doing two major beds in it with one long path down the middle (30″ wide x 12′ long).  This means the beds themselves are fairly deep at 3′-6″.  She understands that weeding will be, literally, a stretch, but she’s not concerned.  She’ll have 84 square feet of space under plastic to grow things, so, what’s a little stretching?

On the fated day, Easter,  that our daughter went into the hospital, I was playing Mother of the Year by actually building my own mother’s greenhouse’s base frame.  (I suppose that makes me Daughter of the Year.)  I used untreated 2×8 members:  short side (where the door is) are 10′ long, long sides and inner beds 12′.  They’re held together with galvanized lag screws with washers that are 3″ x 1/4″.  We assembled it on a flat surface (the driveway) then picked it up and moved it to where my mom wants it.  It wasn’t heavy; two people can lift it easily.

My mom and brother have removed all the grass in the beds.  As a precaution against all the moles tunneling in her sandy soil, they are going to bury some aluminum valley flashing (basically, thin metal) around the inside edges of the beds themselves so the little creatures cannot tunnel in.  It will go down about 6″ below the soil line.

Necessary tool:  hammer drill.  Self-tapping metal screws.  These are the tops of the hoops:  the ends fit into each other.  I put 4 screws in per connection.

Tonight after work I will hammer in the ground posts (galvanized steel tubes that are 2″ in diameter, 30″ long), level them, then put together then assemble the hoop frames.  I will likewise screw the hoops together on a level surface; it’s important to not have things too wonky.  These hoops will go into the ground posts and get screwed into them with metal-tapping galvanized screws.  This hoophouse is so small it only requires a center purlin; hopefully we’ll get that assembled and attached down the center too.

My brother hammers in the posts:  that’s a big bolt and washer they ship to hammer it in.  He’s using a 4 lb mallet.  Then we checked the level between the front and back with a line level.

I always fall down on the photo-taking.  Here we’ve erected the hoops and screwed them into the base poles.  We leveled the hoops by connecting the top purlin to the front and back hoops, made it level, fastened those hoops to their posts then leveled and connected the middle two.

And here’s a shot of how the base frame is connected and how the hoop is connected to the base poles.  I will connect the poles to the base by conduit (C-shaped) clamps.

And here’s the 1 1/2″ c-shaped conduit clamp:  never be afraid to pound something into the shape you need!  This is how I got it to fit in the corner.  I then tapped it back into the base pole.

Tomorrow morning I hope to erect the end walls. These are made of 2x4s; I intend to frame the door at one end and just a simple frame at the other.  (See the post below this one to see my own greenhouse’s end wall.)  The plastic will have to wait until another day!   Mom needs to get the topsoil/compost in place, and woodchips down the center aisle.  Then, it’s planting time.

Here’s another example of hammering something out to suit your needs.  This is a joist hanger/strap anchor.  I wrapped it up and over the top of this 2×4.  That’s the top of the greenhouse, top of the hoop you’re seeing.  I chamfered/birdmouthed the top of the 2×4 to accept the hoop.

And here’s something I didn’t have to monkey with:  it’s the top straps that hold the purlin (straight, horizontal pole) to the curved hoops.

And here’s our lovely ladder model showing the finished end walls.  All this work took only, what, 6 hours of my time!

On new garden tools

I have said it before:  in matters of taste, there is no argument (De gustibus non est disputandum).

Now having said that, let me tell you about something I like!

All tools are personal things.  What works for you won’t work for me, and vice-versa.  And after early experiences, I have long maintained a Do Not Buy policy for my own garden toolshed.  I learned that I was wasting my money AND precious tool-storage space by succumbing to every short-handled tool whim.  I always used what I liked, and what I liked was never the new-fangled thingy I thought I needed to have.

Well!  After years of coveting, I broke my rule and bought this tool.

It does look positively murderous:  like the game of Clue, Mr. Green did it in the garden with the Korean Ho-mi!

It is the BOMB.  Seriously.  I have never planted potatoes faster, or planted peas with such ease.  Like all new things, you need to learn how to use it.  My only criticism is that the handle is overly large.  I purchased it from the stalwart folks at A.M. Leonard:  I can only guess (if it was they who made it that is) that those swarthy Germanic Ohio boys have bigger hands than my dainty blistered Irish ones…and certainly my hands aren’t much smaller than those gardeners of peninsular eastern Asia, from whence the design comes.  No matter.  There still is no ONE garden tool I turn to, and this one isn’t it either, so the diameter of the handle doesn’t bother me enough to have it changed.

I am glad to have added it to the collection.  And, goodness knows, it does look intimidating.  I think we can all agree about that.

Loven update

Moving right along:  showing arch formwork

The nights have been above freezing so we’ve begun work on the masonry oven again.  I am trying to not get too excited, but it’s hard.  It is fun when it gets to this point:  we’re building the arch of the barrel vault of the oven so it’s really taking shape.

Of course, I had to take a day off of work to accomplish this, or rather, to get all my other work completed so I could take on this task.  But:  peas, potatoes, favas and garbanzos are planted and a lot of other garden grunt work was completed.  Milking muscles work well for weed-pulling!

The arch should be finished this week, and then we’ll begin on the chimney and entry arch.  Then, it’s all concrete work.  I am guessing we’ll fire the thing up by the end of April.  Whee!

Building an arch:  he’s on 2 of 4

On direct seeding

It’s a hard world for little things.

The green you see is garlic flanking the row

Do you see my brassica family seedlings in this row?  Neither do I.  After a week of not showing up (normally they’re enthusiastic sprouters) I realized I had some problems with my greenhouse-seeding plans.  The problems?  Slugs and pillbugs.

Sigh.  Plan B (planting them indoors) does not mean I will be a week or two behind.  Nah.  It just means I am annoyed.  Planting in the greenhouse between existing garlic rows and then further transplanting the seedlings to their final destinations (outdoors or into other people’s gardens) is generally the easiest way for me to do things.  And I am all about “easy,” especially in springtime.  But with warm spring weather comes warm evenings inside the greenhouses:  prime munching time for the resident mollusks and armadillidiiae.

My lesson for you here?  Do not think “I can’t plant things in greenhouses as they’ll get munched,” instead “I need to watch to see when its okay to plant seeds in my greenhouse (or outside, or wherever).”  Had I planted them a month earlier, they’d have been fine; a month later, I could’ve planted them outside.  In other words, there are windows of opportunity wherever you plant.  The greenhouse offers a lot more windows…but occasionally it doesn’t.

So I will plant all the brassicas someplace bug-free and warm.  Someplace, therefore, where these small things can experience a softer world.

On charming harvests

Our daughter was hospitalized on Easter.  Long story short, she became dehydrated after a bout of stomach upset, so we spent some long anxious hours with her in the ER and then overnight in a room.   All it took, really, was 24 hours of IV fluids and some oxygen and she was back to normal.  And:  she was STARVING.

After actually reading BOTH fish AND macaroni and cheese on the hospital menu for lunch, she scarfed both down, completely, scarily, today.  We’re home now and the only person I am trying to keep out of the Easter candy is myself; even in extremis she’s not a sweets-eater.  She of course gets anything she wants for dinner tonight, and she called in another seafood order.  Okay, I thought; large carbon footprint on tonight’s dinner, but there has to be something to offset it.

Actually looks big from this angle

It’s been hot here for the past week.  I thought I might check one particular patch of the garden and indeed I was rewarded.  Asparagus is probably her favorite vegetable.  It was a tiny harvest (the first ones always are), but it was more than enough for the small person.

Dark Days, Week 20: the last dinner!

This meal was a long time in the making.  Months!

I was a studio art major in college, and I stuck basically with two dimensions because the priest who taught the ceramics and sculpture department was terribly intimidating.  Ever since then, I have been a frustrated potter!  I finally tapped the urge last summer and took my first ceramics class at the local museum.  It’s been a blast, most especially because I AM AWFUL.  Truly.  Being absolutely bad at something yet still being able to enjoy myself immensely…all new territory for me.  No perfectionism, no fear of failure:  embrace the suck!  It is so liberating!

My first teacher asked us what we were expecting to achieve in her class.  “Making a cassole,” I said, when it was my turn.

I never did accomplish that, so I bribed my second teacher into making one for me.  Although he didn’t completely follow my exacting instructions, it’s a beautiful pot.  And tonight’s meal?  Cassoulet, bien sur.

Precooking the big beans:  big limas, small limas and runner beans

Menu:

  • Four-bean, three-meat Cassoulet:  King of the Garden Limas, Henderson’s Bush Limas, Scarlet Runner beans, and flageolets precooked with a smoked ham hock from Providence Farms, a Lancelot leek, garlic, and bouquet garni (even the  bay leaves were local).  Seared, smoked duck legs and breast from our farm.  Potato sausage from my friend’s farm smoked with the Easter ham in our smoker (his potatoes, pig, salt/pepper)
  • Sorrel Soup (sorrel, homemade chicken stock, carrots, potato onions, a potato, a bit of garlic, finished with goat milk)
  • Leek galette (galette dough:  home-ground flour from Ferris Organics wheat berries, Creswick Farms lard; one monster Bleu de Solaize leek sauteed first in bacon grease)
  • Greenhouse salad (mache, spinach, kale, lettuces, green onions, shallots and garlic croutons from Friday’s bread; homemade buttermilk dressing
  • Apple galette (our apples, the above galette dough, nonlocal spices, Michigan sugar)
  • Local wine, a lot of it!

Ready for the oven

Notice the Most Excellent chicken pot holder my mother-in-law whipped up for me (atop the soup pot)

Served on my own dishes and bowls and wineglasses.  How’s that for homemade??

On too few onions

Wednesday, March 10th:  The last of the storage onions gets eaten!

I knew last year that our onions would run out.  It was a bummer year for them for a variety of reasons.  I have been terribly stingy with them as a result…and no, our food hasn’t been overly bland, it’s simply been very varied.

And no, I didn’t run to the store to buy any replacements.  A girl needs her principles.

At the ready on the butcher block:  the weeny bulbil garlic (never expected it to grow big, and I was right) and the small yellow shallots.  They’re pictured with butter and drying thyme, which likewise are need-at-hand staples.

Instead, indeed, I’ve changed up.  It was after the very first year of trying to produce everything we eat that I realized the gaps in my planning of the allium family.   And storage onions can be tough to grow from seed, harder than any of their cousins in my experience; it was a lesson learned.  I couldn’t, and shouldn’t, try to grow and store 100 pounds of storage onions, it’s both a waste of garden space and we’ll never eat them all before they sprout.  I’ve learned, then, not to rely on them:  shallots, scallions, garlic and leeks have instead been featured.  Egyptian walking onions with their weird topsets and potato onions with their tiny why-bother bottomsets (I just made that up:  basically, they grow off the mother onion) and leek pearls and chives and on and on…not, maybe, as handy as walking to the basement and grabbing a storage onion, but not so difficult to eat, either.

I take solace, too, in the fact that not every food culture relies on storage onions.  Can you imagine big chunks of raw onion in your miso soup, for example?  Yes, luckily, the greens of onions are readily edible.

Where would we be without the whole family?  But, well, they do have a downside.  I quote Swift:

This is every cook’s opinion
No savory dish without an onion,
But lest your kissing should be spoiled
Your onions must be fully boiled.