42point1

the days dwindle down to a precious few

...but truly, I think it's going to be a long, long journey from September to May.

One of the ideas I shelved this past summer was a podcast tracing my farm/garden adventures from the first pick-up in June through to the last one (in two weeks from today).  I kept notes, but for a number of reasons, I just never got around to it.   I recorded the odd bit of audio up at the farm, but none of it ever came together.

(Aside:  part of the reason is that I've reached the point where I want control over where my media is kept, and I need to figure out the issues surrounding server space.  Evidently, I can't afford my own server, so the option is to rent server space, but I haven't figured out -- or, rather, the Tech Guy hasn't figured out -- how best to go about this, so I'm just waiting to move forward when the problem is solved.)

But I thought it might be interesting to see what I got from week to week, and what I did with it.  I think it would have been a cool idea.  Next year.

For example, here's the list of what I picked up today at the farm:

• 2 peppers (green)
• 1 hot pepper (jalapeno)
• 2 brussel sprouts (ie, two stalks with sprouts on them)
• 2 lb. carrots (I am now swimming in carrots)
• 1 1/2 lb. onions
• 2 lb potatoes
• 1 1/2 lb. parsnips
• 1/2 lb. kale (amazingly, cavolo nero, which I've never seen in North America before)
• 1/2 lb. celery (this is pretty much just the bits with leaves on)
• 2 garlic (that's the whole bulb)
• 2 lb. apples
• 1 rutabaga
• 2 winter squash (I took a butternut and a blue hubbard -- the latter I'd heard of, but never seen)
• 2 pumpkins (I took two smaller ones, to cook with.  The larger ones are pretty much only good for carving, and I don't do Hallowe'en).

And to add to that, I bought two bags of apple cider, produced right there at the farm.

Now, as for what I'm going to do with it -- much of it has gone into bins for storage, and I'll use the onions, potatoes, squash, carrots and parnsips a bit at a time, in soups or stews.

The kale, I'm not sure -- I'm going to check out some Italian recipe sites for ideas -- I know I've seen it used a lot on the Italian cooking show La Prova del Cuoco, so maybe I'll start with the recipes on their site.

And the rutabaga, celery, and apples will go together somehow.  Maybe with some of the potatoes, and I'll put them in soup.

The peppers will just go in the freezer at this point.  Hot peppers I've just washed, dried, and tossed in a freezer bag.  They're fine to use *in* stuff when you take them out of the freezer.  The green peppers will follow their fellow peppers (last week I got 12), I'll wash them, dice them, lay them on a baking sheet, and when they're frozen, I'll put them in a  bag (that makes it easy to take out what you want, again, they're pretty much only good to put in stews or soups at this point).

The pumpkins.  Hum.  There's a recipe on the cover of the latest issue of Vegetarian Times magazine, "Spicy Fall Stew Baked in a Pumpkin".  I picked a bunch of tomatillos when I was up at the farm today, and they're called for in the recipe.  In fact, the only thing I don't have access to is hominy, so I'll probably look for a substitute..

I will say that my subscription to Vegetarian Times has more than paid for itself this summer, either by providing perfect recipes for the things I've brought home each week, or by serving as a jumping off point to move in a different direction.

We've already put our deposit down for our CSA share for next year (and they're going to have organic strawberries next year, woot!), and we've decided to triple the size of the garden plot we take -- mostly to give ourselves a little more space, but also to plant more of things we didn't get in the share this year. 

I won't deny it's been a lot of work doing all this all summer -- I was joking with one of the farm apprentices today that my freezer is a perfect archeological experiment in this  year's harvest, and I was stunned to realize that I probably should have bought the larger freezer after all.  But it'll help out this winter, since I've got all sorts of fruit and veg in there, and I'll have a bit more in storage in the next couple of weeks (more root veg and squash).

I also feel a much stronger connection to my community and my immediate environment, having done this. 

I will say, I haven't always loved everything that's been available through the CSA share.  I could happily live without broccoli, say, and as much as I love kale, there were a couple of weeks when I thought I was going to turn into something green and leafy.  But it's also been a challenge coming up with things to do week after week.

I'd suggest that it's probably the only thing that kept me truly sane this summer.

lost in space

I was in the bulk store this afternoon, stocking up on a few things, and in the beans and lentils aisle there was an older couple, buying a whole bunch of things, and taking the "how to cook it" thingees that they have available at the store.

They finally started gathering up their bags, and I scooted over to nab some red lentils (which I was running low on).

The gentleman leaned over, asked what my favourite thing in the aisle was, and I replied, "The red lentils."

And then went back to scooping.

Now, for those of you who don't know me all that well (and I think maybe that Rob might be the only person I know who knows this about me), if I'm out and about on my own, I'm often lost in my own inner space -- I've got music running through my head (and I occasionally catch myself singing out loud in the grocery store -- I don't even know I'm doing it until I see the horrified looks of fellow shoppers), or I'm working out a blog entry, or I'm trying to figure out what to make for dinner, or I'm thinking about something someone said on their podcast and forming a response for their comments, or I'm thinking about what to make with the four balls of Rowan All-Seasons cotton I was sent as a membership gift to Rowan International because I don't like the pattern that came with it (that would have been today).

So it took me a moment to realize that the very nice gentleman was still standing there.

"Would you mind," he asked, "telling me how you prepare them?"

Now this is the kind of question I wish I were asked more often, and which, I think, has only been asked of me a handful of times since moving here.  I remember once being in the checkout at T&T, and having a woman ask me how I was going to prepare the shanghai choy I'd bought.  Occasionally a cashier asks me about something I've bought, particularly if it's something they've not used before.

This is the type of information that I relished when we lived in France -- you could ask a vendor at the market how they would prepare whatever it was you were interested in.  You could ask an acquaintance at the gym -- and in fact, it opened up discussions amongst several of us, as each of us shared something different, say, to do with endives (especially important in February when all that was available that was seasonal and local was potatoes, onions, carrots, and endives, and you'd already eaten enough of all them to last you a lifetime.  Let me tell you sometime how I miss living somewhere where endives are a normal, everyday kind of vegetable, and not an expensive imported gourmet snobby commodity).

It's not generally the type of information we spend a lot of time on here in North America, so I'm often surprised when I'm asked about how I would use something, and I'm very happy to share what I know.

But I've got to spend less time lost in space, because I don't think I did a very good job of describing my lentil soup on the spot in the bulk store.  So many good opportunities are lost when you're not living right in the moment.

And I still don't know what to do with the four balls of yarn.

strawberry fields forever

Now, I know I'm a bit of an anomaly (in North America, at least) when it comes to food -- I often say that I *really* learned what I know about food and cooking during the time we lived in France (and how nuts does it make me not to have a local market to go to every morning!).

Don't get me wrong -- there are bananas on my counter and a mango and a pineapple in the fridge.  Yes, as someone who really does think that seasonal and local is absolutely the way to go, it occasionally gives me moments of angst.  This is why I've got the freezer fund on the go (and thanks to a lovely tax return, the freezer is pretty much a done deal, we just need to go choose one -- whoo hoo!) -- so I can limit my dependence on imported fruit during the winter.

I won't say eliminate it, at least not yet.  But reducing the amount of tropical fruit I eat during the winter is definitely a goal for next year. 

But you won't find me eating anything other than apples and the odd bit of tropical fruit during the winter.  I don't buy cherries or peaches or plums or strawberries.

That's a line that's pretty firmly drawn in our household -- those fruits (and many others) will be available locally come late spring and summer (and fall), and there is absolutely nothing better than eating them at that time of year.  There is nothing better than a strawberry picked on the farm and eaten while it's still warm from the sun.

Nothing.

(Oh, okay, fresh asparagus picked that morning, bundled by the farmer as he sets it out on his stand at the market, and then steamed for dinner.  Also seasonal. Do Not Touch the Stuff in Supermarkets Now.)

It sometimes surprises me that as a society, we've lost our sense of taste, along with our sense of time and the seasons.  Oh, sure, I've had strawberries in February -- but with them comes such a profound sense of disappointment at how tasteless and wooden they are.  Have we really sunk this low as a society that we believe this is best?  That we should eat those woolly berries in the middle of winter, instead of holding out for June, when they will be juicy and delicious?

So, knowing that, it doesn't surprise me to see them on supermarket shelves (ah, the supermarket, where it's always summer, somewhere, and they convince us that they can bring it to us on a truck), and it doesn't surprise me to see them in the occasional shopping cart (not mine, I've learned my lesson).

But last week?  One of the local grocery stores had strawberries on sale, 3 clamshells for 5 bucks, and every time I was in the store --

(yes, I'm one of those wierd people who shops almost every day, I only plan dinner a couple of days ahead, and buy what I need as I need it -- this will change somewhat in summer, when I get a weekly CSA box and supplement that with goodies from the weekly farmer's market.  But if I get desperate, I can also go out to one of the local organic farms, they have a Wednesday sale day...but I digress)

-- everyone, and I mean EVERYONE else at the check-out had 3 or 6 or 9 (!) clamshells of strawberries.

I spent some time shaking my head and muttering to Rob about how awful these strawberries would be, and how could people go mad buying them like that, and at first I thought maybe it was just because they were on sale, and then?

Then I realized that it was the end of February, the weather has been miserable (and shows no sign of improving in the next couple of weeks), and, damn it, we're all sick and tired of it and just want spring to come!

We want our strawberries!

We want them now!

Believe me, I understand the feeling.

But I'm still holding out for the local ones.

comfort zone

Here is a thing I believe:  if you want to stay creative, if you want to avoid writer's (creator's) block, then there's no better way to do this than to do something outside of your comfort zone.

No, I'm not talking about bungee jumping or skydiving, it doesn't need to be that extreme.

It's as simple as choosing a book, a magazine, a blog, or a podcast that's on a subject you know nothing about, or that normally you wouldn't bother picking up, for whatever reason.

This is what I did recently:  after hearing so many raves for Mitch Joel's podcast "Six Pixels of Separation" (okay, that's a great title -- don't you wish you'd thought of that?), I decided to give it a try.

Now, those of you who know me know that I'm probably a marketing person's worst nightmare.  I'm opposed practically everything marketing stands for.  I don't like ads, I try to avoid them, and when I can't, I pick them apart to try to figure out what the seller is trying to push at me.  I quite honestly do not understand why we need more, why we need shiny, why we have to have The Latest Thing -- I'm the kind of person who figures out what I need, what would be the best thing to fill that need, and then I take care of that thing until it finally disintegrates into dust, and then I make a decision to replace it.

I like things that are solid, well-designed, reliable, and that do the job I need done. 

So it will probably surprise you that I decided to listen to Episode 84 of Six Pixels of Separation. 

Quite honestly, I don't remember a lot about the whole episode, but I did find myself rewinding and grabbing a piece of paper when Mitch got to his list of ways to make 2008 count.  I wrote down three that I thought would be useful for me to consider:

-  choose one social network and really get to know how to use it well. 

I'm not sure what to choose, as I'm only really involved in two social networks, Facebook and Ravelry, and both only out of curiousity.  I will say that Twitter intrigues me.  I'm not interested in people tweeting every minute of their day, I could care less about that.  But when my friend Sylvain starting putting out a daily thought on creativity, that was the moment when I realized that there could be more to Twitter than meets the eye.  So if I can figure out what *I* could do on Twitter that might be this valuable or interesting, that may be the one I choose to focus on this year.

- share:  blog/podcast/comment/write reviews/share who you are

Well, what can I say?  I've been blogging for years, podcasting for a while, but I don't think I take it all as seriously as I should.  I lurk on a lot of blogs/podcasts, and I have started making more of an effort to comment.  My aim for this year was to do more of that, to let people know when I've appreciated something they've created, and to share more of the things I've read or enjoyed.  Mitch has reminded me that this really is important.

- get yourself a new piece of hardware

As I said, I'm not interested in owning all the latest and greatest gadgets, and though I think Mitch was probably referring more to something in the tech line of things, there are a few things on my list that I really would enjoy having:  a Zoom H4 portable recorder (okay, I would practically sell my soul to afford one of these, this is the exception to my No Bling or Fancy Gadgets rule); a food processor; a bread-maker; a new Mac (mine is not well.  Rob has done some surgery on it to keep it limping along, but it's only a matter of time, I think); an iPod video.

But since I live on a limited budget, I'll probably only be able to save up for one thing this year, and as much as I drool over the Zoom H4, what I am going to invest in as my one piece of hardware?

A freezer.  If I really want to get serious about local eating, I need a freezer.  I live in Canada, and in the winter, the only local foods available are what can be stored:  carrots, potatoes, parsnip, beets, onions, some squash, some apples.  Even Barbara Kingsolver wrote that if she lived in our more northerly climate, she might have to consider supplementing with non-local foods during the winter months. 

My aim is to get my freezer this spring, and then start freezing local produce for use over next winter, so that even if I have to supplement with non-local produce, I'll be able to keep that to a minimum.  My main goal will be fruit, since that's what we lack most during the winter, but I'm going to think about some veggies as well.

So, the shiny, impractical Zoom will have to wait for another time.  Which is okay, because I'll really enjoy the fruits of the freezer, and when I finally am able to afford the Zoom, just think of how much I'll enjoy that, too.

There is, after all, something to be said for deferred gratification.

(Oh, and Episode 85 of Six Pixels of Separation is cued up -- because Mitch Joel does seem to have a few things to teach me.)

Recipe: Rice Pasta with Greens, Dried Tomatoes, and Salmon

I'm on a quest to elminate as much dairy and wheat from my diet as I can stand (the dairy hasn't been too bad, honestly, with one exception -- I really don't want to give up my black tea with milk at breakfast.  I know I'll have to at some point, but right now cheese and yogurt is sad enough...), and this is a dish that we've been enjoying.

Okay, it flies right in the face of local, seasonal eating, because the greens are definitely not in season around here.  But January in Canada is also not the moment to become strict about local produce.  I'll have more to say on that in a a future entry, but for now, I'm making the best choices I can most of the time, and not going crazy the rest of the time.

This will be even better once greens like kale and chard are actually in season around here, but it's not bad as it is right now.

What you'll need:

• 275g brown rice pasta (this feeds the two of us for dinner with enough leftover for a lunch)
• 1 bunch of greens:  kale, swiss chard, or rapini are good choices
• dried tomatoes (I put in a handful, just enough to make it look pretty
• 200g salmon

What you'll do:

1.  You'll need two pots of boiling water -- one for the greens, one for the pasta.

2.  Start by trimming the ends off the greens, then washing them.  Then you'll chop them (leaves and stems and all), and blanche them for a couple of minutes in boiling water.  Drain them, and rinse them with very cold water.

3.  Cook the pasta -- I time this so that I can just drain the pasta when it's done and toss it into the pan with the other ingredients.

4.  While the pasta is cooking -- heat some olive oil in a pan, and cook the salmon, which you have cut into bite-sized bits (my grocery sells strips for stir fry, which I cut down).  If you like, you can splash a little white wine in the pan to add some flavour.  When the salmon is done, add in the dried tomatoes (I chop them down into little bits), then stir in the greens to warm them up. 

5.  When the pasta is done, toss it into the pan with the rest of the ingredients.  Add some of the pasta cooking water to the pan to make a bit of a sauce, and then serve.