What We Need Is Here

We've got home-layed eggs!

Henrietta's first eggs - they're a bit greener in real life

This weekend, John heard a loud squawking outside that kept escalating. The last time he heard a sound like that was when there was a possum in the nesting box (the time before that, a snake).  So he rushed down to see Charlotte running around in circles along the perimeter of the coop and Henrietta's head sticking out of the box making all the noise. Opening the back of the box, he looked in expecting to see a varmint, but instead he found an egg. Next John began running around squawking about the egg and the miracle thereof. Hopefully the process will become a little more peaceful with time.

Now we have two gray-green eggs from Henrietta, still awaiting Charlotte's. They will probably become "house eggs" as opposed to the the 14 dozen we buy each week and boil up for for the breakfast brigade. They may well end up being boiled, though, since they're such a handy little pre-packaged snack that way.

Which gets to a point I want to make regarding boiling eggs. I have seen people boil the bejeezus out of an egg, randomly letting it boil till it's convenient to remove it from the stove, or thinking it needs to boil for fifteen minutes to avoid being runny. The results are rubbery and, worse, the outside of the yolk turns as grey-green as one of Henrietta's eggshells. It's easy to avoid this and it saves energy as well. Place the egg(s) in lukewarm tap water in a pot. Cover and bring to a boil (covering it will help it boil faster). As soon as eggs begin to boil, turn off the heat and leave covered for 12- 18 minutes (12 for small eggs, 18 for very large eggs). I have no idea where I learned this, but no doubt from some frugal-cooking-quickly cookbook from my past. The eggs look so much more attractive when boiled this way, and you'll save some electricity/gas by not keeping the burner on for so long. Oh, the knowledge this tired and sometimes grumpy mind holds. 

The sound of truth

Another kind of town hall took place around the country last spring. This one was regarding the USDA's proposed National Animal Identification System. This proposal is designed to help big beef producers gain greater access to export markets that require disease control. The controversy is that it's requiring that every single livestock animal in the country is registered and tagged - all the way down to your backyard chicken or pet goat. It's another USDA ruling that helps factory farming (the system that is at the root of creating disease in the first place) at the expense of small farmers.

Poet, philosopher, and small farmer Wendell Berry disagrees strongly. Check out this website to read the short text of his argument, and click the link to hear his voice. His words and tone are clear, thoughtful, carefully delivered and powerful. It's the kind of voice we should be listening for in public debates - because it's likely to be expressing the truth.

Fall Starts

Seminole Pumpkin Babies

Even though it's still hot as Hades, it's time to start plants for the fall garden. Kim (community member) and I composted the last of the dried up sunflowers and began to remark the bed for the next planting. This season begins a more intentional plan for where we locate things in the garden. "Crop rotation" is difficult in the small spaces in which we've been gardening, but now that we have a larger garden, it's time to start incorporating it. In a nutshell, rotating crops helps preserve soil fertility and prevent transmission of diseases from season to season.  Heavy feeders are systematically moved around the garden so they don't deplete one area of soil, and plants that may have attracted a particular fungus or pest are replaced by ones not as susceptible or as attractive. I like this six-plot plan used in a Texas garden where their crops are somewhat similar to ours.

Right now we have sunflowers and seminole pumpkins growing in flats and will start broccoli and beets next week. Blue Lake bush bean seeds are ready to go directly in the soil next week (I'm waiting for little Riley to come help) and will be planted in succession over the next month - so we won't harvest them all at once.  In September we'll plant the pumpkin starts and seed lettuce. October is the month to transplant the baby beets and broccoli, direct-seed carrots and radishes and plant out some onions sets we'll get from the feed store. It's hard to imagine it's ever going to be cool enough again for this stuff to grow, but we're living for that first cool (even comfortable) day...  and hoping for a late frost, the gardener's dream.

Summer Sweet and Spicy Salad

We don't grow a lot of lettuce here in the summer so conventional salads are out for North Florida Locavores. But there are still possibilities for enjoying cool, raw food during these months when no one in their right mind is looking forward to heating up the kitchen.

Peppers and cherry tomatoes are still growing locally - and mangoes are in season not too far away (150-200 miles, better than the 1800 the average fruit travels).  We made a delicious and sparky salad from these ingredients last night. It's good.

Equal portions chopped cherry tomatoes, diced mango, and chopped sweet peppers. Sprinkle on some lemon juice and salt lightly. For the spark, add red-pepper flakes or a pinch of cayenne - or make some of those peppers jalapenos.  Garnish with chopped chives or fresh mint leaves. 

Delish.

Julie, Julia, and the rest of us

We saw the movie Julie and Julia the weekend it came out. I join my voice to those of practically everyone else who've seen it: it was sweet, interesting, and honestly heart-warming. Two women finding their way in life, using hard-won skills and their own unique spirits to create something good, and then sending it off into the world for others to delight in as well.  Oh, to have Julia Child's sense of humor - and her kitchen. I lust for that kitchen.

Our kitchen is . . . different. It's clean as a whistle, but its furnishings leave something to be desired. Equipped with a hodgepodge of kitchenware from households and thrift shops all over town, it also boasts two creaky electric ranges and a fridge on its last leg. Miraculously, it regularly churns out food that folks really seem to love. I'm pretty sure this is not due to any alchemy the cooks are working; I give credit to the fresh, whole ingredients used. A lot of folks have forgotten what real food tastes like. I can't tell you how many times people have gushingly compared the meals we serve with their grandma's.

This week, I've been tweaking our "food policy" and kitchen staples list. It worked really well last year and just needed a few minor additions. It proved to be really helpful in keeping track of necessities on shopping day and also of letting folks know what raw ingredients are available for preparing meals.

The challenge is that not so many people know what to do with raw ingredients anymore... Michael Pollan wrote a great article in the New York Times, "Out of the Kitchen, Onto the Couch," about the change our relationship to food preparation has undergone since Julia ruled the cooking airwaves. Apparently as our interest in cooking shows has grown (Rachael Ray, Paula Deen, Iron Chef, etc.) our actual time in the kitchen has declined considerably. We now spend more time watching other people do it on television than doing it ourselves - if you don't count "heating up" in the microwave as actual cooking.

I'm hoping this year to offer some more guidance in the kitchen - perhaps adding a couple good cookbooks to the "recommended reading" list we are developing for community members and friends. While I appreciate more than ever Julia's efforts at bringing home delicious French cuisine, our desire to use local and fairly simple foods requires other texts. Two formative ones for me were the original version of Laurel's Kitchen and everything by Mollie Katzen. They both offer some helpful philosophy and encouragement regarding going to the trouble to use whole foods and then detailed instructions on how to use what used to be called "staples."

There is so much good in combining fresh, local, whole food with creative, enthusiastic cookery. It doesn't have to take long, but it does need a little know-how - the stuff that used to be passed down from generation to generation. When everything's clicking, the results of putting together simple meals from real ingredients can be as magical as anything Julia pulled out of her hat in her lovely TV kitchen. It's about respect really - for the food, for the hardworking folks who grow it, for those who know how to make it tasty, and for the hungry ones sharing it. And it can be darn delicious.

Bon appetit! 

Late Summer Chickpea and Goat Cheese Salad

 

My Anna sent me a recipe she had a feeling I would love. I tweaked it a bit to use local stuff: summer-surviving cherry tomatoes and a variety of hot peppers from the garden, sweet vidalia onions instead of red, and local goat cheese in place of the feta. 

You can find the original here; have fun playing with it! We stretched ours a little by serving it a bit  above room temperature on rice. Everyone (and we are a diverse crew) loved it.

Thank you, Anna!

Local cheese - so good...

I am always happy to find a new source of local food - and I have a great one in an old family friend who's living her childhood dream of raising goats. Seriously, she's always loved them. Growing up smack in the middle of suburban Gainesville (across the street from me), she and my oldest daughter raised goats as part of a 4-H project. A passing phase for my Megan, Kelley went on to buy, breed, and milk goats for ever after.

We have been enjoying fresh goat cheese since last winter - garlic and chive, jalapeno, pesto, walnut-honey, and plain, and we've spread it on crackers and toast, crumbled it on salads, and sprinkled it on chili. Right now we're stocking up by freezing it since the goats apparently take a break between October and December; we're kind of addicted.

Kelly is working toward certifying her operation (a very expensive process)and hopefully our support will help her with. Meanwhile, she's using all the officially approved methods for milking and preparing the cheese. Although until it's certified it has to be sold "for animal consumption only," the two-legged animals in our household have been eating it up.

If you're interested in helping a new dairy get started while eating some delicious local cheese, leave a note in the comments or send me an email (kellibrew@yahoo.com), and I'll put you in touch. It's $5/half pound.

The Courage to Make Something New

Thank you for all I forget are gifts,
    not rights.
Forgive me for all the grievances
    I remember too well.
Save me from the self-pity,
    the self-seeking,
        the fat-heartedness
            which is true poverty.
Guide me, if I'm willing
    (drive me if I'm not),
        into the hard ways of sacrifice
            which are just and loving.
Make me wide-eyed for beauty,
    and for my neighbor's need and goodness;
wide-willed for peace-making,
    and for the confronting power
        with the call to compassion;
wide-hearted for love
    and for the unloved,
        who are the hardest to touch
            and need it the most.
Dull the envy in me
    Which criticizes and complains life
        into a thousand ugly bits.
Keep me honest and tender enough to heal,
    tough enough to be healed of my hypocrisies.
Match my appetite for privilege
    with the stomach for commitment.
Teach me the great cost of paying attention
    that, naked to the dazzle of of your back as you pass,
        I may know I am always on holy ground.
Breathe into me the restlessness and courage
    to make something new,
        something saving,
            and something true
that I may understand what it is to rejoice.

-Ted Loder in Guerillas of Grace: Prayers for the Battle

Summer Survivors

I am back! What a great trip - and a blessed relief from the heat here in North Florida. Living in Paris was a wonderful break for me - interesting, challenging, and restful. I feel rejuvenated and ready to take on another year here in Reality.

Reality includes the remains of our spring garden which I surveyed first thing this morning. When I tell friends who live in cooler climes that we pretty much shut down the garden in the summer, they are astounded. August and September are high harvest season for many folks and they can't imagine summer without fresh veggies.

Of course we do have fresh veggies, there's just not quite the selection. And tending to them is utter misery for a lot of us (me). It's hot, wet, buggy and sometimes plain sad. This year's garden, though, looked better than most in early August, thanks to Wonder-Bob the Gardener who appeared at our house at just the right time, missing his garden back home and wondering if he could help with ours. Oh, yes! He's weeded, watered, harvested, staked, composted, manured, and mulched the garden through a soggy and sometimes blistering summer. Their are quite a few survivors to show for it!

Here they are - vegetables that can take the heat (and soul-sucking humidity) of Gainesville summer:

Roselle, known by various names around the world, many of which include a variation of the word sorrel. Now, this is one good looking plant and, if true to form, will remain so till the first freeze. Like okra, it's related to the hibiscus and has a lovely flowers (ours has tiny buds right now). The calyxes of the flower are dried and used to make a "tea" that's high in anti-oxidants and vitamin C and a traditional Christmas drink in the Caribbean. With a little luck, and a late freeze, we can do that too. If not, it will make an excellent Thanksgiving drink.

Peppers, sweet and hot. These plants are known for thriving in the heat (think desert southwest), but sometimes need a little help with the humidity. Staking, to keep them off the damp soil, and avoiding over-watering helps. We lost a few plants in early summer to root rot from too much rain, but the rest are thriving.

Cherry tomatoes. I know there's nothing like the big, beefsteak tomatoes - especially lovely heirlooms like Brandywine. Bu€t for delicious taste and heat tolerance, as well as sheer volume, you really can't beat the little guys. In the past, I've always grown the Sweet 100s and Sweet Million varieties with great success. But my husband fell in love with Rosie's Sungolds, so we tried those this year. Still ticking in August!

Butternut Squash. The vines have been sucky since mid-July, but somehow these plants keep sending out new shoots and fruits.  They are a good source of vitamin A and healthy calories (if you're making a meal out of vegetables, it's going to need a little substance). 

Eggplant. I have to admit I am not a fan. But Mohamed (who lived with us in the spring) is and he planted them with great delight. Even I have enjoyed these little ones thinly sliced and broiled on a piece of good bread with sliced tomatoes and cheese. They are a great summer survivor as evidenced by their overwhelming presence at farmers markets this time of year.

 

Pole Beans. For some reason they always do better than bush beans in the heat, although they are winding down in production.

Okra. Some are a little long in the tooth (they have to be picked every day in the summer), but they are going strong. Okra is so southern, you just have to learn to like it if you're going to live here. I would like to experiment with pickling it someday.

Sunflowers. They only look sad. They are hanging their heads because they are full of seeds. They themselves grew from seeds saved, so the beat will go on. We are also allowing them to share some of their bounty with a pair of cardinals.

Zinnias. There's a reason these are a southern tradition. Some of their leaves are beginning to look a bit spotty, but the flowers themselves on their long, sturdy stems are just so sweet. They make a mid-summer garden look kind of pretty and last a long time after cutting as well. If there is a "cure for the summer-time blues" this would be part of it. 

Within the next few weeks, we will be putting some of this to rest - the tomatoes, the beans, most of the squash vines - so we can prepare the soil for the fall. In the meantime, I'm going to make as many meals of it as I can. Hot and dank as it is, it's good to be home.

The place I want to get back to

is where
    in the pinewoods
      in the moments between
        the darkness

and first light
    two deer
      came walking down the hill
        and when they saw me

they said to each other, okay,
    this one is okay,
      let's see who she is
        and why she is sitting

on the ground like that,
    so quiet, as if
      asleep, or in a dream,
        but, anyway, harmless;

and so they came
    on their slender legs
      and gazed upon me
        not unlike the way

I go out to the dunes and look
    and look and look
      into the faces of the flowers;
        and then one of them leaned forward

and nuzzled my hand, and what can my life
    bring to me that could exceed
      that brief moment?
        For twenty years

I have gone every day to the same woods,
    not waiting, exactly, just lingering.
      Such gifts, bestowed,
        can't be repeated.

If you want to talk about this
    come to visit. I live in the house
      near the corner, which I have named
        Gratitude.

- Mary Oliver, from Thirst