City loves Country

Time for tea

2010-04-17T21:15:00.004-04:00

Random personal fact: I'm on day 6 of "no sugar, no coffee, no alcohol" and it's an interesting experience. All of those things have been replaced with tea, so as you can imagine, it's always time for tea. Like now.

This cup is rooibos, which according to a two-minute web search cures or prevents every disease known to man. That's good, because the last cup was rooibos, too, and so was the one before it.

So during this 45th cup of tea of the day, I decided to take the the blogosphere to share a garden update with y'all. Here it is:

Everything is growing well! The end.

See? That's sort of boring to read. Though it's true - garlic is good. Chard is good (and yummy). Lettuce is coming along well. Kale, herbs, strawberries, yadda yadda yadda. But the asparagus is still hiding and all I see is unbroken dirt. I got a little impatient today and poked around in the dirt to look for growth, but I didn't find anything. I think one of the potatoes is throwing up a sprout, which rocks. And soon it will be time to do some more planting out.

Meanwhile, the chickens are little ladies. They're about the size and heft of a standard-issue football, but with more feathers. And tonight for the first time, they managed to put themselves to sleep in their little house! Most nights, Erik and I trekk outside lighting our way by headlamp and scoop up the comatose pullets and carry them to their little brooder box. But tonight they were big girls and figured it out. The 37-degree weather helped a bit, I think.

Here's a happy picture Erik took of me and the girls a few days ago.

Tea time over. Next cup in five minutes.

Live blogging the NCAA Championship

2010-04-05T21:34:00.022-04:00

Well, sort of.

See, there are two parts to married life. The first is proximity. Example: after dinner, Erik and I are sitting on the couch together. The second is compromise. Example two: 'we' are watching basketball. But not just any game -- a 'very important' game, I am reminded.

So I'm going to live blog about what I'm thinking about, which is about how I just planted a crazy amount of asparagus, or what the seed company promises will someday be asparagus.

Because right now, it looks like a 3-day dead squid:

Ah, this just in: "Butler knocking down threes like crazy from way outside the line to go up one."

I have no idea what that means.

Back to asparagus.

So it arrived in a box today with the strawberries we ordered. Our plan was to plant 4 little squares of asparagus, and allow that to become the permanent asparagus stand. But as you can see, we had quite a few of these little roots (or 'crowns' as they're called).

Game time interruption: something just happened in slow motion involving an orange ball and about 4 armpits.

So instead of 4 squares, we cleared 6 and decided to plant the rest in the back garden.

Time out; Duke. 2:40 to go in the half.

We dug down about 6-8 inches and placed the crowns kinda far apart (but not as far as the direction sheet recommended), and fanned the roots out.

Interruption: apparently, there's a button on our remote control that freezes the image on the TV. Amazing.

Then we covered them up with dirt. Yay.

Going to the half - a one point game. Many cheerleaders.

I scooped up the rest of the crowns and assessed the back garden.

In my digging, I encountered what could only be buried treasure simply because it was too big for me to dig out myself. Intrigued, Erik came along with his shovel to help.

We figured out what it was: a concrete footer for an old fence. But it left an astounding hole, perfect for me to sit in.

(That's my impression of a spring bulb. A 'tulip,' to be exact.)

And the sun went down, so I worked fast. Here they are - planted.

Apparently, it's still halftime, so they keep showing spirited and informative segments about how fabulous these teams are. And still more slow motion and color commentary. Lots of mentioning about how "hard these guys work."

Strawberries have to wait until tomorrow, I'm afraid. I leave you with some pretty tidbits to give you a sense of how the garden grows.

Chard (overwintered):

Lettuces (various types):

Kale (Lacinato):

Spinach:

And my perennial favorite:

Game's tied. Wait, no, now 36-38. Wait, no - tied again.

I'm going to bed. Y'all are just going to have to watch the game yourselves.

We put the chickens outside!

2010-04-03T22:58:00.006-04:00

This weekend was a big first for everyone in the CitylovesCountry household: friends, family, felines and fowl. On April 1, we kicked the chickies out of the house and showed them their new (outdoor) digs.

Here's a video of this momentous day!

They're a little over 4 weeks old, so for the first few nights we brought them back in at dusk. But tonight they're outside all night (with the heat lamp, of course) like big girls.

The second child

2010-03-26T22:56:00.006-04:00

I am a first-born. My arrival on the scene, though not entirely planned, was a serious game-changer in the lives of all involved (not least, of mine). And for a number of years, give or take some rough patches along the way, I enjoyed the full focus of the sun, so to speak, on my little life.

And then my brother was born on April 11, 1985. Cue the thunder clouds.

Of course, in the end, the world is better place for his existence. And had I been the one making those decisions that no one actually makes, I would choose for him to be born. But there's something back-seat-y about the arrival of a sibling, something like the Spears-cum-Aguilera-cum-Simpson phenomenon: In with the sparkly new pop diva, out with yesterday's.

Parents don't apologize for this natural order of family events, and goodness knows the public is so unforgiving as to support an entire industry that mocks yesterday's pop divas (thank you, US Weekly). But I believe that I have pranced a few steps in this little dance recently, and I am going to hold myself to a different standard:

I'm sorry, my little potatoes.

And I'm sorry, all you pretty seedlings, so patiently lined up on the dining room table. I'm sorry, Arugula, for not trumpeting your first sprout yesterday. And I should be ashamed, Chard, for not shouting from the rooftops that Erik and I ate half of one dinner this week courtesy of your hard work throughout the winter.

I am a jerk: I got chickens and ignored my garden because it doesn't squawk and do uber-entertaining dumb things with ping-pong-ba lls.

So for the record, today I planted two varieties of heirloom potatoes (all-blue and French fingerling). Some of the spinach didn't take, so I replanted a bunch of that last week. Lettuces are poking out of the dirt like algae on a pond, and not much of anything is happening with my carrots (what is new...).

The container garden on the porch is swinging into gear, though I may have been a bit impulsive (who, me?) and planted several herbs too early, as there's a frost tonight. And some of my young plants may have bit the dust due to my aggressive "hardening off" schedule.

So yeah, we have chickens, and they're fascinating and have sucked all the oxygen out of this once-garden-centered blog, but soon the oxytocin is bound to wear off and I will seek my jollies from the green grow-y things again.

I love all my children the same. Honest.

I just wish my plants would grow as fast as the chicks.

And chirp.

Chicken Olympics

2010-03-17T11:11:00.004-04:00

Inspiration hit me last night like a fat lady with a fly swatter. I was seized with a sense of purpose and genius. The moment had come to bring our 6 little chicks to the next level of existence.

It was time for . . . chicken tetherball.

Here's the video: (If you can't see it on facebook, go to www.citylovescountry.com to see it on my blog)

Hen House is Here!

2010-03-14T15:32:00.019-04:00

There's a short version and a long version to this story.

Short: the henhouse arrived on Saturday morning and we put it in place. It is awesome.

Though satisfying in that we now have a henhouse, the story of its arrival and installation, which involves the murder of a rhododendron, sleep deprivation and brownies, deserves to be told in long form. So here I go with the long version:

"He's one mile away."

These are unwelcome words at 7 am on Saturday morning, no matter who the "he" in question is, but Erik repeated himself sufficiently to rouse me from bed.

Mark King was minutes from our house with the chicken coop perhaps a 'tad' earlier than we expected, but it wasn't going to install itself.

I stumbled around looking for warm clothes and caught a glimpse out of our third-floor window of a minivan pulling what looked like a small house down our sleepy neighborhood streets. I ran outside with my camera.

We guided it into our driveway, and then had a "now what?" moment once we realized that it weighs 500 pounds (true fact). Erik helped the guys unload it from the trailer, and I helped by taking pictures.

We rolled/heaved/shoved/hauled it closer to its intended home behind the shed and to the foundation that Erik and I had built for it last weekend:

(this foundation)

. . . but we encountered a problem. Four problems stood resolutely in the way, in fact: two 50-foot tall Douglas fir trees, a 6-foot tall chain-link fence, and one very unhappy and very doomed rhododendron bush.

Now I can rest easy knowing that all worked out in the end, but in that moment, I was anguished by the thought that we'd just paid for this gorgeous coop and had planned for its arrival for months only to realize that there was no way to get the damn thing behind the garage. So I took charge and decided to make things better . . .

. . . by running away to fetch brownies and coffee for the folks who, I was sure, would figure things out just fine without me.

Viola! I returned 10 minutes later with steaming coffee and a plate full of brownies to find three men scratching their heads, staring at a very stuck chicken coop.

Should we tip it on it's side? (uh, it weighs 500 pounds, so, no.)

Should we try taking it around the other side of the garage? (yeah, not going to happen either.)

The fence had to go. And the rhododendron had to die.

At this point I put down my camera (hence, no pictures) and actually helped, but eventually, we squeezed the hen house into a very tiny space.

It was like giving birth, but backwards. With a 500-pound chicken coop.

(I'll post a video clip of the final seconds of this battle soon. Can't now because my computer and I are arguing.)

So that's the long version of the story. Erik has more cuts and bruises from the whole ordeal than I do, but I have more pictures. And now our chickies have some serious real estate.

So back to my original question:

What color should we paint it?

Coop Dreams

2010-03-13T00:21:00.005-05:00

It feels like Christmas Eve at the Citylovescountry household! Tomorrow morning, our chicken coop arrives! Mark King, the man who is building the coop for us, just e-mailed us these images of the finished structure. It's gorgeous:

The girls won't move in until next month, but tomorrow morning, we'll place it on the foundation that Erik and I built last weekend. Stay tuned!!

PS: what color should we paint it?

PPS: Mark is at King's Berry Farm 508-867-9222. He builds and delivers and is awesome.

Bird Brain

2010-03-10T21:39:00.016-05:00

I just washed the poo off my fingers so I can write. (Bird poo, not mine.) I sit here, typing as quietly as I can as to not disturb the six sleeping babies inches from this keyboard. Despite my efforts, the quiet rat-tat-tapping of the keys draws 12 alert eyes, six at a time, from fuzzy, erect heads.

Um, scratch that. They all just fell asleep. Simultaneously.

That's just it: they're such - babies. 'Narcoleptic babies' may be redundant, because I think most babies sleep and wake at will, at times without direct obvious cause. I've declared it my favorite thing about these birds - that they run around with such an extreme sense of urgency and purpose - until they literally fall asleep. And I mean, fall over. Like they're dead.

It's like the rapture hit the brooder cage. One second, they're running about like mad, frantically searching for the thing they're - about - to - find - - - and the next instant their wings drop to floor and they melt sideways into the soft hay, or on top of the feed hopper, or beak-first into the water trough, or onto each other in one great soft mass. It's so terrifically funny, so inexplicable, but really - why not fall asleep whenever the urge strikes them? They're babies after all.

I really love them. All six of them, even the few I can't tell apart. One is smaller than the rest and has a subtle dark mark on her head tip. We call her 'Runt.' One is just huge, and seems to be developing about a day ahead of the rest, so we suspect she is exactly that - one day older. The other four are very similar, made all the more similar by the impression that the six of them share one tiny bird brain. We call it the 'hive mind,' because it's uncanny how they all want to do exactly the same thing at the same time. Sleep, drink, run around, peck something. It's like some announcement alerted them that water is on Sale Sale Sale! in aisle seven. And the sound that emanates from the cage is one big cloud of 'peep.' Somehow their chirps float around and defy acoustic law, and the effect is calming and dazzling.

Speaking of the pecking - it's constant and they're indiscriminate. They obey the following criteria:

1. Is there a value contrast (light to dark)?

2. Is it nearby?

That's all they care about. If it's a speck, or anything like a speck, or not even a speck but something that looks different than the stuff around it, it's peckable. That includes fingers, sleeves, pieces of hay, dried pieces of poo stuck on a fellow bird, parts of the brooder wire, their own feet - and on and on.

As for their temperament, I now understand two idioms in a way I never have before: 'bird brain,' and acting 'chicken.' I'll take the latter one first:

Being chicken. Chicken shit. Chicken-livered. You know; scared. It's funny, though; they're not timid. The opposite is true - they're intensely curious creatures. But they have hair-trigger orienting responses to absolutely everything. Rustling paper, a slight breeze, the squeak of a chair, a voice, even the clicking of keys on a keyboard. Everything is cause for instant alarm, but unless it's an immediate threat, they calm down as quickly as they get fired up. These birds can go from full panic to asleep in 5 seconds. I've seen it repeatedly.

That brings me to 'bird-brained.' Any creature that can freak out and fall asleep in the space of a few breaths must not think over-much about any one thing. They're not burdened with the concept of cause and effect or even sequential events. It's always now for them - like really now - all the time. Which is why it's so captivating to watch them for hours on end, which is exactly what Erik and I have been doing for the past week.

The brooder sits atop what used to be the dining room table, and has now turned into the bird and veggie nursery. Two chairs are drawn to the edge of the table, inches from the brooder, so that we can easily do all sorts of things while watching the girls. Tooth brushing, shoelace tying, coffee drinking - all happen in immediate proximity to the brooder cage. But mostly we just sit there together, Erik and I, like awestruck sports radio announcers, calling the play-by-play as we see it.

"Look- Runt's charging that other one! Did you see how high she just jumped?"

"Oh, that's definitely a poop squat. Good thing we change the litter to hay; it's a much better color now."

"Now that's one's falling asleep - can you believe it? She just fell over!"

The television in the other room talks to no one. Dirty dishes wait in the kitchen sink. Our cat wonders what happened to his once loving family.

Meanwhile, we just sit and watch, in wonder at it all.

Winning Caption

2010-03-10T08:31:00.002-05:00

So I put out a call for captions for the girls' photoshoot. I got many variations on a theme (you'll see), but one submission rose above the rest.

The winning submission:

Thanks, Dad!

Outmaneuvering the Mold

2010-03-07T15:43:00.009-05:00

Nightmare: I returned from a brief business trip to find my tender little seed starts being consumed by ghastly white mold!

Every single peat pot was afflicted. I panicked. And I did what every gardener/blogger does when she panics:

I googled.

So it turns out that gross white mold is what happens when

A. the starter soil is not sterile (sterile dirt? are you kidding me?);

and/or

B. when the humidity is too high;

and/or

C. the soil has become too compacted and does not 'breathe.'

I was guilty of A, B, and C, I admit. I honestly didn't know that one ought to, or even could, sterilize dirt, of all things. Lesson learned.

But instead of tossing the whole moldy mess into the compost, I decided to try some good old yin and yang. Too humid? Let's dry things out. Too moist? How 'bout a little sunshine? A little fungal? How about some chemical warfare? (organic, of course)

So I brought out one of my photography studio lights - the hottest, brightest sucker I own, and set up a tripod on the table above the seed starts.

Then, I placed a fan on low next to the trays as well, and let both the light and fan do their thing for about 24 hours. I also read somewhere that spraying the surface of the dirt with a very diluted solution of Hydrogen Peroxide would kill the mold, so I tried that, too.

All of this seemed to help, but the Eureka moment came when I was driving home from work one day stressing out about the mold situation. It hit me that the most powerful antimicrobial/anti-fungal agent I could think of was plain old raw garlic. So I blended the heck out of a clove of raw garlic and suspended it in water, and sprayed the heck out of the dirt with that.

Oh, and I also started watering from the bottom only.

Anyway, check this out:

Problem solved!

Hot Chicks for your viewing pleasure

2010-03-06T23:20:00.004-05:00

Perhaps the cutest thing we've ever seen.

Erik and I held a photo shoot for the girls in our bathroom. They were perfect models, though clearly quite confused by the sudden change of address. We just finished photographing them and have not yet had time to cook up witty captions. This is where you come in. Please post your best, and I'll stick them here (with attribution, of course!).

Mail-Order Chicks!

2010-03-05T14:49:00.005-05:00

You all know what that means, boys and girls. The girls have arrived!!!!!

Now, for a peep show:

I've been talking about getting these girls for a long, long time now, and our chicken dreams are finally becoming a reality. Yesterday, Erik and I picked up our 6 adorable Buff Orpington chicks from the Waltham Agway. We're having a difficult time doing anything but stare at them, but I've peeled myself from their brooder long enough to type these few words and post this video.

A little info about the breed. Buff Orpingtons are known to be the Labrador Retrievers of chickens. They're big, golden brown, affable and tame. They're considered to be a dual-purpose breed; that is, they are useful as laying chickens and as, ahem, dinner. We'll see what the future holds, but Erik and I have a feeling that this may lead us even further down the 'vegetarian' pathway.

For now, we're transfixed.

Plans becoming plants (and chickens)

2010-02-28T00:33:00.013-05:00

Yay!

Today was a 'makin' things happen' day. Erik and I went to our local Agway (more on that in a minute) to get supplies for our chicks, who are coming on Thursday, March 4 or so, and also some extra plant-starting stuff. I'll tell you, one of the challenging things about doing this urban agriculture stuff is that it's so in vogue and in style these days that most of the places that cater to urban gardeners are over-priced, shi-shi boutiqu-ie type places. No joke - I can buy a decent latte at my local garden outlet, but the prices I pay make me feel like a fool. So now that I'm in the market for chicken feed (and organic chicken feed, at that), I have to do some serious pecking here in metro Boston to find a decent and reasonably priced supplier.

Found one!

Agway in Waltham. Annoyingly, though, they have zero online presence. You can't search their stock online or even view a website. All you can find is this google link with an address and phone number. But take it from me - it's a great value, the staff is super friendly and helpful, and you can find anything you need for pretty heavy-duty gardening and basic livestock needs.

So when we get the chickies, they'll need oodles of TLC. They can't regulate their own body temperature for a while, so they have to be raised in a brooder - a small, protected area that can be heated to body temperature (about 100 degrees), protected from drafts and from (most importantly in our household) our cat. A proper reinforced brooder can cost in the hundreds, so Erik took matters into his own hands:

He's constructed a basic brooder that will house our 5 buff orpington pullets (young female chickens) from age 1-day through 5 or so weeks.

Here are his architectural sketches:

He designed it to be tall enough and wide enough to hold five 5-week old pullets (which is about how old they'll be before graduating to their next home). The height is about 20", which is the height the heat lamp needs to be to produce a 100-degree reading at floor level.

This simple brooder is constructed from chicken wire and plain wooden stakes.

Then they'll move up and out into the larger world, and into their henhouse, which I've decided needs to be called the Nunnery.

Meanwhile, I sorted seeds and started the varieties that will need to get an indoor head start.

Started in pots are: tons of basil, marigolds, fennel, kale, tomatoes, ground cherries, all sorts of flowers, chives, cilantro, eggplant, and I forget what else.

Oh, I planted directly into pots that will decompose when planted in the ground. For the last two years, I've struggled with transplant shock - the crashing that happens to my fragile seedling starts when I rip them from their nursery container and plant them naked in the ground. This year, I decided to try this method, which seems to me to be kinder and gentler on developing root systems. Of course, it's alway important to harden off the seedlings (expose them gradually to the elements) before setting them out permanently.

Tomorrow or the next day, I'll direct seed the beets, carrots and spinach in the cold frames.

To hell, then heaven and back; now holding a Map. (for the garden)

2010-02-25T20:56:00.020-05:00

This has been an interesting, no - *interesting* season for me. I do desire a life experience that touches the full range of human emotions, and well, the Universe listens to earnest requests.

Right after my last post, a horrible earthquake leveled much of Haiti. I traveled there immediately to cover it for the Globe (I was embedded with a disaster response medical team). It was a deep long look straight into Hell. Here are some of my videos I did there. The first one is a recap of my experience there.

And then I came home to my blessed world. Back to my husband, our cat (who eats special canned food!), healthy friends, a house! The stark contrast had me in shock. But I soaked it all back in like a wrung-out sponge and happiness rescued me from the darkness I'd seen. The next video I created was a lark - a personal, silly video valentine for Erik that I'm happy to embarrass myself with here:

Really, you don't have to watch it!

And then something very personal and profound happened in my life that is a bit too raw to share, but it forced me back into the arms of something grounding by its very nature: garden planning. Which is why I write today. I am happily announcing the Citylovescountry Gardens of 2010:

Click on a map to enlarge it if you can't read the type and you're curious.

But anyway, the plan is:

Start inside immediately: kale, tomatoes, pak choi (a Chinese cabbage)
Plant outdoors in early March: arugula, spinach, chard, carrots
Plant outdoors in mid/late March: lettuce, beets, Pak Choi (from transplant), kale (from transplant), cilantro, mint, potatoes, asparagus (from starts)
Start indoors in mid/late March: peppers (all), eggplant, ground cherries, basil
Plant in containers in April: rosemary, oregano
Plant outdoors mid May: tomatoes (from transplant), corn, sunflowers, cucumbers, squash (both), zucchini, strawberries, dill, lima beans, purple pole beans
Plant in late May: peppers and eggplant (both from transplants)

OK, sure, we all expect to see plants and veggies, etc. But I've been teasing you (and myself) about something else for a long time now. Something a bit louder, eggier, with feathers.

Enter, the Buff Orpingtons!!! (that's not mine; I stole the picture fair and square from here).

And here is where they're going to live:

Mark King of King's Berry Farm in East Brookfield, MA (508-867-9222) is going to build it for us for a very reasonable price. He's even going to customize it to fit between our garage and our fence. He's fantastic!

So we're super psyched and going to get started right away with preparations this weekend.

The chicks are coming! The chicks are coming!!

Details to follow soon . . .

Seeds they are a-comin'!

2010-01-11T23:08:00.005-05:00

Seeds!

Here they are!! Some have already arrived. Now I have to figure out what to start early indoors and what to put out in the cold frames. I'm thinking the two kales are going to be early pioneers this year.

Oh, before I forget, do NOT plant beans and beets next to each other. I did this last year and wondered why both crops were so puny - apparently they inhibit each other's growth! Who knew?

Seed you later...

(Oh, and if you want to do some good online ordering, I recommend www.seedsavers.org and www.burpee.com. Those are the two I used.)

A verse to share

2010-01-11T13:10:00.002-05:00

During my assignment this morning, I photographed a woman in her home in Hingham, Massachusetts. As I composed the image, she sat in her chair and recited this poem. I must share it. It's by Oliver Herford.

I Heard a Bird Sing

I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.

'We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,"
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.

Just lovely.

Crawling out of my hole

2010-01-02T21:24:00.003-05:00

When a thing is born, what does it first do?

Write a novel? Wash the dishes?

Nah. It cries. And sleeps, and learns to crawl.

Are rules the same for the re-born? And is too grandiose to suggest that in a way, this is happening to me?

It's not about the new year - it's about the final days of a deal that I reluctantly made with myself last spring, when I thought my company was going down and me with it (yay, newspapers). I decided to launch myself into the industrious, ambitious, obsessed business world to see if I could "make it" outside of the only job I've ever known.

In doing so, I made this deal and traded in my entire life. No more pottery, no more twice-daily yoga, or long hikes, or friends, or painting, or GARDENING, or blogging (which you are surely to not notice, as no one reads this anymore, therefore, there's no you there).

However, I did not lose my job. I just gained another full-time job, and for the past 9 months, been doing them both - and nothing else.

Boring.

That, though, is ending. I can't say for sure how, but I desperately want my life back, the connection to the earth and things that grow and have nothing to do with this man-made world of concrete and invisible economies.

This was a pre-meditated rebirth - meaning that I've been planning for it for months. Stage One was full of crying and being totally unimpressive, like most infants.

Stage Two came this weekend. I dusted off my seed catalogues, recruited the ever-supportive Erik and set about to make Plans for this year's Garden. Or, ahem, gardenS. We're expanding the operation.

On tap this growing season:

kale (dwarf blue curled scotch and lacinato)

potatoes (French Fingerling and All Blue)

tomatoes (Sidduth's strain Brandywine and Black from Tula)

Chinese cabbage (Joi Choi)

beets (early blood turnip)

carrots (Paris market and Danvers)

zucchini (green tiger)

summer squash (summer crookneck)

winter squash (table queen acorn-type)

dill

cucumbers (sweet success hybrid)

chard (Fordhook giant)

corn (Reed's yellow dent)

sunflowers

garlic (German extra hardy)

eggplant (listada de Gandia)

purple pole beans

ground cherries (Aunt Molly's)

lima beans (Big Mama)

spinach (America)

bell peppers (purple beauty)

hot peppers (mustard habanero)

asparagus (Jersey giant)

arugula

basil (sweet Genovese)

cilantro

strawberries (3 types)

lettuce (8 types)

And Erik has finally agreed that this is the year of the Chicken! So eggs are hot compost are coming to a blogger near you.

It is January 2 and about 12 degrees outside. Most would agree that it's winter. But for me, it's springtime. And parts of me that have been crusted over by ice and buried in a snowbank are beginning to thaw. Beginning to believe that my life can be drawn back into it's old, more earthy orbit, and that soon my eyes will be filled with visions of green and growth and tiny, fluffy, helpless chicks wobbling about, squawking, just barely born.

And I will totally understand.

The Hippest way to spend the day

2009-07-17T14:12:00.015-04:00

Rose hips, that is.

This year, our Rosa Rugosa bushes kicked out an incredible number of these gorgeous globs of reddish-orange happiness.

Apparently, all parts of all roses are edible (except, of course, those that have been chemically treated with pesticides and such), including these funny little gifts of fruit.

What's this have to do with the way to spend a day? Well, today is my first day of summer. It's the first day that I'm off of work, the sun is blazing, the garden is booming and I have the entire day to do whatever I please.

So while I sipped on my second cup of morning coffee, I made a do-list of sorts:

And at the top, as you can see, is "make rose hip jam" and tell y'all about it. So I set out to pick the lot of them and get started.

A thorn in my plans?

Every rose has it's thorn?

A thorn by any other name still makes you bleed?

Well, lookout, anyway, when you pick these pretty suckers. I got a little carried away once or twice when I saw a particularly pretty berry and now I have perforated fingers.

I picked a bunch:

They're so pretty!

Next step: process. Rose hips are funny little beings. They have these giant sepals that create a stiff crown at one end, and the other end is where the spikes begin. Both of these have to be removed before you can proceed.

Here are the rose hips floating in rinse water after I sliced off the crowns.

Next step: seeds. Not just a few seeds, either. Copious amounts of furry, nasty, inedible and irritating seeds.

Many sources direct you to cut each rose hip open and manually scrape them all out. But that would literally take you all day for 8 cups of fruit.

For example, these seeds all came out of one fruit:

So I have better way. Stick the suckers in a blender with a bunch of water (you'll have to do this in batches), blend on low for about 10 seconds or so to chop up the fruits (without chopping the seeds too much) and go check your e-mail.

I mean, do something for a minute or so while the mixture separates out because, viola, the seeds float!

At this stage, you can spoon them off the top. A nice tip is when you're struggling to get the last few seeds, fill the blender to the top with water and scrape them off the surface with your fingers.

I filled this bowl with seeds from all the rose hips:

You can bet that those did not go in my compost pile.

After all that blending and seperating and skimming, you're left with this:

Which you then pour into a pot with the water you used to blend and boil it up for a long time.

Ah! Added bonus. I was hot and inspired, or just perspired, and desired some sweet iced tea. Instead of reaching for the mint tea bags, I took some water from my mixture here, strained off the pulp, sweetened it and poured it over ice.

So, so good.
Guaranteed to satisfy your thirst and vitamin C requirement for a month.

At some point in all the boiling (after about an hour, I'd say), I added a bunch of sugar and some lemon juice. While that was going, I sterilized my jars

After it got to the jamming stage (a little after this picture was taken) I scooped it into the jars, screwed the lids on tight and processed them in a hot water bath for about 15 minutes.

I didn't add any pectin or gelatin so we'll find out how well it gels, but it sure is pretty!

This process takes a while, so I took advantage of the downtime and baked a loaf of bread to enjoy when the jam cools down. The recipe for this no-knead bread is in my archives.

But I caution you against trying it unless you don't mind gaining 10 pounds in a month. :)

I'll report back when we crack open the first jar!

My garlic is so Money!

2009-07-16T16:12:00.009-04:00

Remember these?

The other day, curiosity overcame my patience. I had to meet my underground friends that have lived in the front garden since, well, November!

So I dug and dug,

And pulled a little and . . .

It smelled so wonderful!

Hooray!

I dug up the rest (all 11) and now they're drying/curing in the kitchen.

As a triumphant aside, I went to the Davis Square Farmers Market yesterday and had an experience that thrilled me to my toes. Usually, I walk the aisles of the market and feel a wee bit inadequate because my city-girl produce doesn't often match the pros' goods. Well, that has all changed with this garlic harvest! We blew them away. It would have taken 3 of their bulbs to match even one of ours! Finally, something came out of our ground that I can be really proud of.

I mention this because on the same day I dug the garlic, I also pulled the a carrot and the beets.

Yah, don't get too excited. They're pretty tiny.

So I sliced them up, sauteed them in some EVOO tossed in the beet greens and served it over proscuitto brown rice and wild salmon garnished with fresh green snap peas.

And look who else came for dinner?

It's not the size that counts . . . (well, maybe it is)

2009-06-22T20:43:00.008-04:00

We're talking carrots here, people. (But at least they're dirty carrots.)

Last year, as you can see by looking back at some of my old posts, my adventures in growing carrots proved me to be a miserable failure. None - NOT ONE - of my many dozens of carrots of the 4 different crops of carrots topped an inch in length. And the ones that managed to take carrot-ish form were eaten through by ants.

Pitiful, right?

So this year, I tried a new approach: plant carrots that are supposed to be short and stubby so I can claim victory no matter what. Meet the Danvers Carrot.

The other morning, I started the day in my favorite way - coffee, husband, garden tour with the sunrise.

(and no makeup)

We wandered over to the front gardens to see what we could see.

(That's Erik, seeing all that he can see.)

And Hark! I spotted something!

A mature carrot?!

So I tugged and tugged and came to an instant conclusion:

- that I didn't have to tug very hard. Not a good sign.

But it was bigger than an inch and not an ant in sight. So that made me declare a 73% victory.

And then I ate it. It tasted like a carrot. The rest are still in the ground. I'm aiming for a 100% victory in one week. Set your watches!

The Garlic Scape Caper

2009-06-01T16:48:00.011-04:00

I walked out to the garden the other day, and saw this:
That, I found after a bit of Googling, is a garlic scape. And not only can you eat it, you should eat it. Leaving it on the plant will eventually sap strength from the bulb - not good.

Which begged the question: how big were the bulbs under there?
I am not a patient person.

Just ask my husband. Ask anybody.
Ask, well, ask this garlic plant.It wasn't very big as you can see. I replanted it and apologized with lots of water and gentle patting. (It's still not dead several days later...)

Instead, I just harvested the scapes and prepared to make some uber-yummy pasta primavera.
Chopped 'em up:They taste -- now get this! -- garlicky! And a little salty. Very nice flavor.

Threw them in a saucepan with some other stuff:Added mushrooms, sundried tomatoes . . .. . . some garden-grown oregano:. . . some summer squash, red peppers . . .
. . . garden-grown arugula, some white wine, yummy cheese . . .. . . saved some garden-grown basil to sprinkle on top:
And then we ate it before I remembered to take a picture of the finished dish. Doh! Should only have my wine after the photographs are done. Trust me, though; it was a delish dish. Try it out with whatever you have on hand.

Here are some other pretty pictures from the garden last weekend:

Happy chard:
Happy Amish Sugar Snap Peas in spring rain:

And a wee bean trying to make it out of the dirt.
Cilantro that is moving on to the next phase of life:
Spinach that was hiding so I wouldn't eat it (had it for dinner last night).
And summer squash getting ready to start a riot.
That's the update!

Don't give up....

2009-05-26T21:47:00.013-04:00

First, let me say, I've been Berry, Berry bad.

Just about 2 months have passed since the last post. We have a trellis. We have a trellis. Refresh button. We have a trellis. Still a trellis.

So I ask you Chive me no more . . .

And Lettuce be friends . . .

. . . and put the Chard times behind us . . .

. . . and Peas

peas,
PEAS! Forgive me for my inattention.

Believe me, it's bugged me too.

It's no excuse, but I've been Romaine around the globe pursing other adventures.

Specifically, I went to Kenya for a couple weeks to direct a documentary on people stretching. (And I know that's not Romaine.)

Also, my work life has been tumultuous (New York Times want to shut us down? What?) to say the least, and my Papa had to get surgery (he's A-OK now).

In short, I've Bean busy.

The good news is that our gardens haven't suffered, only the garden of www.citylovescountry.com. And the garden of your curiosity about this patch of Medford, MA dirt. And the garden of my really bad puns hath become overgrown like the garlic,

-- nay, it hath blossomed into this ridiculous apology post.

There is much to write about and show now that spring has spring with such force. Consider this a preview postcard of things to come. I won't abandon you again. Until I do.

Feline any better?

We have a trellis!

2009-03-28T21:56:00.009-04:00

Remember that trellis I told you we were going to build? Here it is (pre-paint):
Erik build me this grand structure on which to grow our cucumbers, beans, peas and squashes. And whatever else I think we can fit. Here 'tis after a coat of purple paint (on the outside of the box only, of course):I love its lines. I hoped it would be functional, but I didn't thing it would be pretty, too!
Here are some pictures from the square foot gardens, just because they're so happy. This is the garlic, which I think will be ready long before its scheduled harvest time in early summer:And here's some very green, lovely chard:
Now, when do I harvest it? Should I start now with the outside leaves? Will that encourage new growth? Advice?

Proof that coldframes rock!

2009-03-20T00:22:00.004-04:00

Here's a wee video update about how much green things love little glass houses.

Rainwater collection system

2009-03-19T23:02:00.003-04:00

Though gardening can save you money, be prepared for your water bill to increase significantly if you water your garden the way I did last summer. This year, we're trying something different, and, I think, better for us, the plants and the environment.

Erik installed this rainwater collection system (aka, a 55-gallon barrel with some non-fancy plumbing) that directs the pure, free stuff directly to my garden hose. I especially appreciate that the water is free from additives such as fluoride which are added to protect our teeth. Fluoride is toxic to plants (and to us, really, but we're bigger). I made this little video showing the blue wonder in action.

We have a sprout!

2009-03-15T22:55:00.009-04:00

Ahem, cold frames rock.Those would be the first sprouts of 2009. Hello, Arugula. Amazing!

Oh, and the squirrels were digging frustrated holes all over the lawn to day, but - heh, heh, heh - they can't get to the tender shoots just inches from their greedy little snouts. Cold frames are squirrel proof!

Specimen 2:That's the rainbow chard that overwintered and I nearly pulled up last weekend. It's going gangbusters! So's the other chard:I've not yet managed to get my chard to 'take,' though I've heard people boast about how, once established, you can't get the stuff to stop growing. So I'm super optimistic that soon, I won't have to buy $4 bunches of the stuff at Whole Foods.

And lookie: Those are the chives that overwintered. I pointed out in my video that they were coming back from the dead a few weeks back. And now look at them! Soon, I'll make more grass cookies.

Just had to share! Spring has sprung!

Spring?

2009-03-07T00:15:00.008-05:00

I wore shorts outside today for three minutes.

There is less snow in my lawn.

I am not currently drinking tea.

The neighbors have tucked away their Christmas lights.

Could it be (almost) spring?

Yes, I did plant some stuff last weekend in a fit of optimism. Then we were blasted by arctic air and two feet of snow. Some humble-Eskimo-pie for this upstart gardener here in Massachusetts. But I am so ready, so achingly ready for things to be green and a little warm again.

True confession: I just sat on my behind for fully 20 minutes trying to decide which picture of last summer's garden to put on the desktop of my computer. This is pathetic for two reasons.

1. I gave up "e-idling" for lent, even though I'm Jewish.
2. The real reason I want to look at this picture is because I don't believe that anything will grow out of my lawn again after this frozen recession winter.

This is the picture that's currently on my desktop:
Taken last September 9. Not an overly exciting picture, but like childhood pictures, saturated with sentiment and funny, poignant-only-to-me stories. Like, ha ha, that time when I accidentally cut the main vine of my favorite squash plant. Or that night when I set beer traps for the slugs, and then sat vigil for hours to rescue them before they fell in.

Ah, summer.

What silly things will happen in this season's warmth and abundance? That's a happy reverse memory. To contemplate what will be when the sun returns, and I can smell the earth again for longer than a brief thaw.

Tonight when I returned to my house after a wonderful dinner with friends (thank you, Liz and Jason), I stood on my porch and leaned into the breeze, quiet all around. It was one of those moments when nothing belongs to you, not even yourself, and you see your life from 30 feet up and a million miles away. I looked up at the moon, which was hidden behind the fir branches, and had the funny sensation that I was seeing it from below -- that I was seeing it from a particular vantage point that didn't define the moon, only my direct experience of it right now, in this life, in this body. I looked down at the two front gardens, which are covered only partly right now by snow. I tried to imagine them as they will be in July, absolutely realized green glory. Everyone on my block is asleep, I decided, judging from the dark windows. And the wind was so soft, and not cold, really.

This is my life. I feel so grateful.

And so ready for spring.

First Planting of 2009!

2009-02-28T00:48:00.004-05:00

Let the growing season begin!!!

During an unseasonably warm afternoon yesterday, I seized the torch of optimism and sprinkled the first seeds. Here's short video I did about my planning and process. Hope you enjoy! (And yes, I know my outfit is ridiculous.)

If you're interested, or could use it, here's the planning template I designed. Feel free to use it!

Obama-Nation indeed!

2009-01-21T10:00:00.004-05:00

Yesterday, I produced a video with colleague Ann Silvio about Boston's take on Obama's inauguration. I thought I would share. Hope you enjoy!

Garden Porn ("Winter vs. two but's" final installment)

2009-01-19T22:27:00.008-05:00

The mailman came the other week and delivered a fantasy. The seed catalog is 98 pages of wishful thinking and undreamed-of self confidence. Gorgeous images of vegetables - voluptuous, dewy and thrown together in opulent piles - promise themselves to me, if only I am skilled enough.

There's the rub. The produce is one sort of taunt, the obvious one. But the real fantasy here is that I could be the sort of master gardener to coax these beauties from the earth. That I could pop a seed, maybe two, check in the morning and wham, I'm a garden goddess. Gone would be the memories of puny carrots, short as erasers and equally tasteless. Forgotten is that dreadful August day when I accidentally cut the main vine of the winter squash. And I'd no longer feel so inadequate when faced with the mountains of robust produce at each farmers' market.

The etymology of the various vegetables listed in the catalog could be a study in itself. Some names are plainly descriptive: (ie, the albino beet)

some are mildly offensive:
(the "lazy housewife" bean),

and some are straight to the point: ("Jacob's Catle Gassless" bean - which is "Reported to have half the flatulence of regular Jacob’s Cattle." FYI).

I think two of my favorite names (given that I've think this whole magazine is a greener, dorkier version of porn) are "Kentucky Wonder Bush" and "Kentucky Wonder Pole." I am not making this up.

I guess Kentucky really is for lovers.

Moving on - let's talk about carrots. And my very, very inadequate, puny carrots that fed only the ants. I have hope for this year, though, for several reasons. First, now that the soil has had a year to assimilate all the compost I've added, I think it will encourage more downward growth (longer carrots). I think that last season, too many nutrients near the surface encouraged the carrots (and some beets, too) to hang out close to the soil surface.

So I'll try again with my Danvers Carrots, but a new bull's in town. Meet Oxheart:

"Hard to find heirloom introduced in 1884. Uniquely shaped short, very thick roots are 5-6" deep by 3-4" in diameter and grow over 1 pound very rapidly."

I like that they're already short, so when I pull up short carrots, I'll know they were meant to be that way. Also, I'm a Taurus and feel an affinity for anything stubborn and purposeful. Those veggies look pretty fierce. My money's on them.

Corn came next. I almost skipped this chapter because I don't really want to grow any corn in the space that I have. Besides, I'm getting chickens this spring and 8-foot-tall rows of corn may just push my neighbors over the edge.

But let me show you the pictures that nearly changed my mind. Meet Japonica Striped Maze:"Blue Jade":. . . and "Strawberry Popcorn:"The jury's still out.

Have you ever heard of ground cherries? I came across "Aunt Molly's Ground Cherry" and now I can't think of a more perfect plant."Ground cherries were recorded as early as 1837 in Pennsylvania. This outstanding variety originated in Poland and is prized for its clean flavor. Fruits are ½ to ¾" in diameter and are encased in a papery husk that turns brown when the fruits ripen. Stores 3-4 weeks in the husk. Extremely productive plants have a sprawling habit and grow 18" tall and 24" wide. Excellent citrus flavor, can be used for preserves, pies, over ice cream or in fresh fruit salads. Starts fruiting by the end of July and continues until frost and a little beyond, extremely productive."

To summarize the rest of my notes:

Definitely going to plant eggplants. Looking at Florida High Bush ('cause they produce lots of sturdy little eggplants),Lista de Gandia (because they're gorgeous) and Thai Green (because I like to eat them).

As for lettuce, I'm totally confused. I wasn't happy with last season's variety (I picked up some seeds at a grocery store), and I don't know where to begin.

I'll plant as many peas as I possibly can, especially the Amish Snap Pea.

Ditto for sweet bell peppers such as Wisconsin Lakes.

Tomatoes, OMG. SO many. Mostly Brandwines, because they are divine, and lots of yellow pear-shaped miniature ones such as Beam's Yellow Pear Tomato.
I have to stop here or this post will go on an on and on and...

Bottom line: I'm staying away from the monocrop seed packets at the hardware store. This season, it's all about genetic heritage, hope and luck.

We interrupt this message...

2009-01-09T22:57:00.004-05:00

...because there was a cookie emergency.

A chocolate emergency. A low-energy on a Friday night emergency. A what-am-I-doing-with-my-career emergency. An "it's a recession," "the middle east is exploding again," "my car battery died today" and "I'm out of eggs" emergency.

You know, an emergency. So I made some really great vegan chocolate chunk cookies.

(Yup. I just confirmed. They are really good.)

Here - you make them too:

2 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
3-4 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
dash cinnamon and nutmeg, if you wish
5-7 ounces dark chocolate, chopped up coarsely
1/3 cup coffee, cold (you can use water if you want)
2 tablespoons agave nectar or honey
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 teaspoon almond extract (optional, but good)
handful of raisins or dried cherries
1/2 cup (dash more) canola or olive oil

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Sift together flour, cocoa, salt, sugar and baking soda. Add chopped up chocolate
Steep raisins or dried cherries in 1/2 cup boiling water for 2-3 minutes. Drain and set aside
Mix together wet ingredients in separate bowl: coffee, oil, agave nectar (or honey), vanilla and almond extract, and drained raisins/cherries.
Combine wet and dry ingredients. The batter will look very strange - sort of piece-mealy and a bit oily. If it looks like there's no way it will come together, add a dash more coffee or oil, but don't go too much over 1/2 cup total oil.
Form by hand into balls, about 1 1/2 inch in diameter. Squish slightly, and space relatively close together on an ungreased cookie sheet (16 to a cookie sheet). They won't spread much.
Bake for 10 minutes. If you bake them longer, they will be thoroughly crunchy, but I like mine soft.
Cool on cookie sheet for 2-3 minutes (they're delicate at first), them move to cooling rack until firm.

Eat, and enjoy the cholesterol-free and chocolate bombs!

Winter vs. "two but's" (part 1.7 of 2)

2009-01-08T10:18:00.009-05:00

Back to business.

So as I was saying, the plants in the coldframes? Not dead. In fact, they're startlingly alive considering how brown the landscape is around here.

I dusted the snow off one window, took it off and braced myself for the pile of ex-plants inside. Instead, this:
(turnips and an occasional radish)

And this:
(lettuce and chard)

And this!(baby turnips!)

Of course, the lettuce has pretty well checked out. That's fine with me, though, because I was never a huge fan of the variety I planted anyway. Too limp and wussy.

And the garlic - it continues to try to sprout through the 6 inches of compost I piled on top of the original sprouts.
I nervously went back and re-read the planting instructions for German Extra Hardy organic garlic. Indeed, I planted it none-too early (October 25), and the instructions warned me that the cloves would try to sprout before winter and advised to pile on the compost or mulch. But it's January, and they're still poking through? All in the name of experimentation.

Oh, yeah! I pulled up a couple turnips to prove to myself that there's action going on below ground too.They're small, but tasty. I put them in soup.

And did I mention that it's freezing outside? I bring this up only to brag about my new outfit, courtesy of my mom. She custom embroidered a very warm pair of cover-alls for me for Christmas. Though not flattering (won't be wearing these to any cocktail parties), they are WARM. Plus there's a chicken.
They're lined. In hot pink.Just what every city-farmgirl needs. Thanks mom!

Now to the "part 2" portion of "Winter vs. 'two but's".

The mailman cometh. And he bringeth - garden porn.
The seed catalog.

Not to be a major tease here, but I have to go to work - again. So though I have pages of notes for this next post ready to go, it will have to wait - again.

Back soon!

Winter vs. "two but's" (part 1 of 2)

2009-01-04T11:12:00.009-05:00

Mini-feed in reverse chronological order:

It is Sunday. I sit here with my coffee.
House guests left yesterday. Before that, New Years, and with it, a large, fun, messy party. Before that, Mom's visit for 8 days, during which was Christmas. Before that, Ireland for a week - the entire magical island - and a wedding. (That's Newgrange)

And before that, I stated in a whining post that it was cold outside.

It is still cold outside, it is still that season where nothing grows and everything is asleep. At times, several feet of snow have blanketed the cold frames outside, and the back garden receives no light at all this time of year. My garden is a colorful memory like that of an old love, walled off by snow and time.

But . . . well, two "but's" . . .

Number one but: Something is growing. Inexplicably, slowly, but very certainly, the plants in the coldframes are actively growing. When we left for Ireland in mid-December, I had saluted the coldframes as we walked out the door, thanking them for our late-late crops of lettuce, radishes and turnips. Since our return, Boston has been pummeled by winter storms and arctic cold. On a walk the other night, both my coat, made moist by breath, and my eyelashes froze.

So yesterday, after our final guest took to the road, I grabbed a broom and a camera to investigate how dead everything was.- So very not dead, is the verdict.

Here's a peek:
- but I have to go to work right now. So the big "reveal" as well as the second "but" will have to wait a day.

Be warm, and Happy New Year!

It's cold, and I'm being a baby.

2008-12-08T21:21:00.004-05:00

Cold outside. How unusual for New England in December.

So why does this somehow shock me each year? We built cold frames to anticipate, what? July? Well, this blog post was supposed to be a blog boast about how friggin' cool the cold frames are because my lettuce and radishes and turnips are all still growing! And it's 16 degrees out there!

Last night, we had dinner with friends, and brought a spinach salad. Before getting in the car, I pulled up three gorgeous radishes and brought them with us for dinner. They were a hit.

Next year, now that I know that these cold frames work pretty well, I'll try to plan better and plant more winter crops in early October. That way, they have 2 full months of good growing weather before it gets beastly outside, at which point they can just hang in until their dinner time cometh.

When I'm feeling like less of a baby, I'll go out there and take some pictures.

But for now, I'll just change the subject.

Argentina, anyone?

I just wanted to share two pictures I liked from my reunion with black and white film and my Leica. (You can click on them to enlarge them.) The first is of the caregiver of a vineyard and her son right before nightfall. The sky was dynamic and forbidding, and this child was so full of light and love.

And this picture is from the 106,000 acre estancia where Erik and I stayed for two glorious days with Walter and his incredible family. This is his daughter, Delfina, asleep on a sunny and perfect summer afternoon, in her father's pickup truck. I took this picture to try to capture something - that the world, this existence, is caring for us in each moment. It holds us, and holds up life's richness, and we are all, throughout our lives, just children.

Triumph of (or over) the Brussels sprouts

2008-11-27T11:41:00.015-05:00

I don't know whether to declare victory or defeat. Perhaps, I should borrow a phrase from Jon Stewart, and declare the Brussels sprouts experiment a "Mission Accomplicated." Because that's what it was. Those 'sprouts were such a pain in my ass, they took forever to grow, they threw off the design of my neato cold frames, but oh.

oh,

they were so delicious.

((Disclaimer here is that the story of this harvest is slightly used news in that I've been sitting on this post (chewing on this post?) for several weeks now and have not had the time to put cursor to monitor. Forgive and forget, if you please.))

Remember this guy?And the cute little sprouts? (that only toward the end ceased to look like the nipples of a pregnant dog and more like veggies?) Well, on a dark and stormy night, a monster emerged from the shadows wielding sharp blades, a blinding light emanating from it's menacing brow.The monster swung, and hacked, and chopped.But nothing happened.

So the monster handed the terrifying blades to its co-monster, who swung and hacked and chopped.Again, to no avail. With an angry roar, both monsters grabbed the 'sprout and ripped it from the earth intact.

And then they washed it off and scratched their heads at what to do next.OK. Enough with the third-person.

Then we snapped off the leaves and determined that it would not fit in the oven to roast.It was enormous, and we soon discovered that cutting it was impossible.

Except, that is, with a table saw.The stalk of the Brussels sprout is amazing.That ring you see has the texture and density of wood, and no kitchen knife or garden shear could dent it. It's damn impressive.

So impressive, we had to eat it.

But first, I brushed it with some olive oil and garlic,and stuck in in the oven, whole, to roast at 420 degrees for about 10 or 15 minutes.

Sprinkled it with salt, served it on a platter and cut each sprout off with a paring knife.

It's the vegetarian's version of eating meat off the bone.

And it was de-lish.

Travels, part 1

2008-11-23T15:05:00.014-05:00

I'm back.

Or somewhat back. I'm in that half-way state of mind that descends during a transition. To my right, the washing machine is humming along, trying to process an epic amount of dirty clothes, this here teabag is doing triple duty with yet another refill of hot water, and I'm sitting in a silent house, listening to the wind tickle the wind chimes and feeling the chill of November 23 in the Northern Hemisphere.

Many thousands of miles south, November 23 is very different. Having just returned from Mendoza, Argentina, I'm happy to testify that early summer exists somewhere right now. Baby pears are budding in endless orchards, tiny nibs that will someday turn into wine are sprinkled through a sea of vineyards at the foothills of the Andes. And though my lettuce out in the coldframes isn't so sure about this Yankee 20-degree spell, it is currently wiltingly hot and dry on the desert roads, way down there, at three in the afternoon.

Circadian rhythms notwithstanding, I'm experiencing a sort of biological whiplash. Not two weeks ago, I wrapped up the somewhat mournful process of tucking my autumn garden into its cold, dark bed, and was beginning to accept ever fewer hours of daylight each day. And suddenly, by technological and petroleum-fueled magic, it became June all around me.

This must be, I thought, how a recent divorcee feels at a wedding. Wistful, and a bit ironical, and jealous. Babies everywhere - baby grapes, baby basil plants, fistsfull of chicks, a mewing orange kitten - all in their earliest season. And I walked among them full of awareness of the difference time makes to the living thing, to my own garden, to myself and my loved ones. I am prone to this melancholic way of thinking anyway, but there at the feet of the Andes, where snow melt meets desert and earth gives way to crazy sculptures of rock and dirt, I felt at the bleeding edge of this thought, for days on end. And each night, as if to reinforce this mantra, came the stars, zillions of them, blinking unblinkinlgy, to frankly scare the hell out of me.

Some context is necessary, I realize. We were near Tupungato which is about 2 hours (not quite) southish of Mendoza - on the far west part of Argentina. Erik and I were fortunate to stay for a spell at Estancia San Pablo, an enormous (106,000 acre) ranch run by Walter and his wife, Karina (and their two knee-high babes). Walter deserves a blog entry to himself. If the Bible were rewritten in today's time, he would appear as a character in its pages.

My fuzzy brain is beginning to fail me and is crying out for a nap, but I'd like to get to my main point first. Out there on the ranch, life swirling around backed by huge mountains and an even bigger sky, I felt that I had stepped into an alternate universe. Everything felt so raw, imposing, indigestible and dangerous, and it felt foreign, unsafe, different, gorgeous. But this raw world, at the edge of comprehension for my urbanized sensibilities, is so much closer to the truth, ecologically speaking, than my own reality day-to-day. Which completely turns me on my head. I say I want that reality, that intimate closeness with the cycles of life.

What does it say about me if, when faced with what I revere, I am a bit afraid?

What to do with 467 apples (or how to make apple butter)

2008-11-13T15:24:00.028-05:00

Last weekend, a very special friend (who's turning 4 in a few days) and I went on an apple adventure.

Here's Ramona pre-adventure:
One ppj sandwich, a brief nap, and two lollipops later, we arrived at Drew Farms in Westford, MA where the manager and I struck a deal: $10 tucked into the glove box of the white Dodge minivan parked in the lot, and Ramona and I could pick all the apples we could carry out.

Ha.

They didn't know who they were dealing with.
This is how it went down:
And then. . .
This is the story of how we ended up with 467 apples, give or take 100.

In the past week, I've given away enough apples to put a dent in Whole Food's produce sales, used a bushel in a fashion shoot and made 40 - FORTY - jars of apple butter.

And this is how to do it.

Get apples. Lots.
Wash them off, quarter them and stick them in an oven-safe container. Don't worry about coring or peeling them.
Cover them up (with lids if you have them or foil if you don't) and stick them in the oven at 400 degrees for about an hour - or until they're really squishy.This is what they look like when they're done baking:
My goal in this apple butter fiasco was to do as little work as possible to the biggest possible effect, so I went and splurged at the hardware store and bought a food mill:The beauty of this method is that you don't have to peel or core anything. The food mill takes care of all the roughage by pushing through only the happy squishy parts.

So, recruit you friends (say hi to Jason), and have a cranking party. Spiked hot cider helps the process along.This is what is left in the food mill when all the apple goo is processed:The processed apple goo is the prettiest applesauce you've ever seen:Then gather your spices (cloves, allspice, cinnamon), some lemon juice and sugar.Add a lot of the spices (I have no idea how much) and a pile of sugar (about 2-4 cups, I'd guess - depends on how much apple sauce you have). Just make it taste good - remember you can always add more as the mixture cooks.As I was doing this, by the way, Erik and Jason were making fun my *precise* measuring. Erik asked me how I would describe the amount of lemon juice I added to this batch, and lacking a better answer, I held up the bottle and said, "full, minus this much."And then you just cook it for a long time over medium/low heat. Be careful to keep some sort of screen on top of the pot because it bubbles and pops like mad.As the mixture cooks, the sugars caramelize, turning it a deep, beautiful brown and giving it a distinctive apple butter-y flavor. You'll know it's done - well, when it tastes done - but especially when it's very thick and clings to a spoon. If you stir it and think, "applesauce!" - keep cooking.

Once you've lost your patience, or you want to go to bed, or it's actually done (whichever comes first), pour the apple butter into sterilized jars to within 1/4" of the top, screw the lids on tight and process in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes.At this point, I got crafty. Or Martha Stewart-y. Or just plain carried away again. I had to play dress-up with all 40 jars of apple butter.And now I have the happy dilemma of finding enough people to give these to.

Looking back, it was by far the easiest of all the canning/preserving/jamming sessions I've done this season. Not having to peel the apples is grand, and there was almost no waste. This is definitely a project I'll repeat, and I'd recommend it to anyone with kids who like to cook and make grand messes.

Oh, by the way, I'm out of town (Argentina) for the next 10 days, so if you don't see any new posts, that's why. I'll still be online, though, so if you leave a comment, I'll be sure to get it and respond. Unless you tell me you hate me. Then I won't.

Happy November, y'all!

2008-11-08T00:16:00.024-05:00

A few things have happened since the last post. For brevity's sake, I'll make the review short (and full of pictures) and go back only as far as last Tuesday . . . November 4.

Bright and early, we did this:
Then I worked like a crazy person taking pictures and doing a video about other people doing exactly that same thing.

And then this happened:

And then I stayed up all night shooting and editing this:

And then I did this for about 20 hours:
And then today, I went outside to find this:(Oh, yeah. . . I have a garden!)

So that's what I've been up to, and that's why I haven't written. Seeing that I work for a news organization, I cannot mention my feelings about the outcome of the election, except to state several facts. This is history, and whatever your feelings about the promised "change," -- well, change has already occurred. Both of those things are incredibly positive developments, and that's all I'll say about that.

Back to the garden, my little squares of non-partisan dirt that at the same time speak volumes about my politics.

Last weekend, I painted the inside of the coldframes white (using non-toxic, no-VOC paint) so they can make the most of the limited winter sunlight. That paint, by the way, is massively expensive! $26 for a small can!Then, Erik and I sealed the joints and screw holes with clear silicone so they'll cold up for several seasons in the rain. They are also stained and sealed on the outside to protect the wood.

Each night, if it looks like the temperatures will dip near freezing, we place the windows on top and close them. But if the weather is balmy and wet (as it's been for about 4 days here now), I just take the tops off entirely. Unless it's really cold, I leave the windows open so air can circulate. As the days get colder, I'll adjust this, and perhaps only leave the windows ajar during the sunniest hours. Again, learning as I go here -- advice is welcome, if you've got some!

It's been several weeks now with the cold frames, and the plants seem to love them. The lettuce has gone nuts:So is the Swiss chard:And we're getting little baby turnips (? - forgot to remember what I planted there - could be radishes, but I don't think so)Speaking of radishes, I went to check on them, and !#&@^#*#*@(@!!!!!!This little jerk is responsible:And this is how I feel:So I dusted off the ravished radish -and ate it.

Good news about the brussels sprouts! Remember this plant that would not, could not, mature so I chopped off its head?Well, now the sprouts have filled out. I think we're going to make then into dinner soon.There were two cantaloupes that hung on late in the season, though they remained tiny. I've left them on the vine in the hope that they'd get a little bigger, but to no avail. So today I plucked them from their home and introduced them to my kitchen knife.They weren't very good.

The composter in the front is just about ready.
And the back composter is full of the tomato, bean and pepper plants I tore up in the rear garden.Speaking of the rear garden, I decided that next year, it's going to be the dedicated vine and tomato spot. The tomatoes did great there this year (especially the Brandywines) and the purple pole beans - oh my. However, the one thing that all the vining plants needed was more support, so we (actually, Erik will) are going to build a trellis that stretches from the fence to the roof of the adjacent garage.
(like my illustration?)

And while I'm sharing my plans for next season, here's the area where we're (actually, Erik will - again) going to build the chicken run:I'm about out of updates, and both the cat and the husband are snoring, so I think I'll wrap up with some pretty pictures of rose hips, which I may harvest tomorrow to make jam.Th-th-that's all folks!!

Trick or treat

2008-10-31T22:28:00.007-04:00

In retrospect, perhaps I got carried away.(That was my costume. I was a farmer. I don't think my greatly exaggerated freckles show up in this picture.)

The outfit was within the bounds of normal Halloween excitement. But the $25 of candy? The multiple jack-o-lanterns offset by seven other enormous pumpkins? The candle-lit walkway? The three hours I sat outside freezing my pigtails off waiting in vain for just-one-more trick-or-treater?

I forced a roving gang of college kids to take fistfuls of candy. Three different times.

What happened to trick-or-treating? It used to be the highlight of the season for me when I was a kid, and damn it, it still is now. But I guess these days kids have better things to do - like sit at home and watch TiVo - than to trek up and down cold streets and earn their snack-sized Kit Kat bars. (Oh, yes - I give out the good stuff.)

I did document the few kiddos who came my way (er, some I had to chase down the street and beg to come my way). And here for all to enjoy, are their getups.

Halloween Party Pumkin Carvin'!

2008-10-27T23:04:00.006-04:00

That would be: Wiqan and little Kai, me and Erik, Laurie and little Mahala, and Theo and Mandy in this silly composite picture.

Not pictured: two huge pies and the gallons of (very) spiked hot apple cider.

Fall should be celebrated!

Out of Fall, Into Coldframes

2008-10-25T22:54:00.041-04:00

I signed off last with a long to-do list, and I'm happy to report that the list is now bordered by a long vertical column of red check marks. It is done and things are good.

1. Turn compost and collect finished compost.
Admittedly, that's not me. But I talked him into turning the front composter because it's completely full. I took care of the back one, which over the past few months has produced gorgeous, pitch-black finished compost.
As an aside, I really recommend having two composters going at all times so you can have an "active" pile (one that you add stuff to) and a "cooking" pile (one that you're waiting on to finish up). And when you harvest all your finished compost from one of them, leave a little at the bottom to get the next pile of gunk cooking faster.

2. Level with the damn brussel sprout.I killed the poor plant once, around July 4, when I decided it was never going to do anything that resembled producing a sprout. I tore up all 6 plants and my father-in-law gently pointed out that it was about to start bud formation, so I promptly stuck the most intact plant back into the ground. Lesson learned. Brussel sprouts take their good old time.

But really. It's freaking October 24 and the thing is still not done? I'm never planting these dumb things again, or maybe I'll do a little research first (novel idea) and plant them either very early or very late in the season, when they do best.

One piece of advice I found in the great cybergarden was to lob off the top of the plant so it stops growing up and starts getting down to business. So I did.Who knows if that will work. (?)

3. Harvest basil, coriander (cilantro gone to seed) and random other things to prepare beds for turning and enriching.
Here is about 1/20 of the basil I harvested. I got adventurous and harvested my two ginormous "ornamental" basil plants (the purple kind that's described as pretty but not tasty) and tried it out in my pesto recipe. I used walnuts instead of pine nuts because I figured the heavier flavor of the walnuts would work well with the stronger basil - and because walnuts are cheaper. So if I blew it, I'd be less mad.

Anyway, it rocks. And now I have enough pesto for . . . well, just look at my freezer:We could literally eat pesto for 15 days straight.

For the recipe and pictures, click here.

4. Enrich beds with finished compost.Here you can see that I removed the grid (and most of the plants) to prepare the bed for a major redig and enrich. It's sort of like exfoliating and moisturizing, but with dirt instead of your face.

Exfoliate:
Moisturize:and admire critters:- I planted a bunch of the vacant squares with more hairy vetch (a green manure) and some with more with turnips and radishes just for the heck of it. -

5. Rip up squash vines (and discover squash!)

6. Plant garlic.

I ordered "German Extra-Hardy certified organic garlic from Seedsavers.org, and it arrived in the mail a few days ago.Garlic over-winters in the garden, and you're supposed to plant it sometime after the first major frost of the season (which was the night before).

Inside the package were 2 bulbs and an instruction sheet.It said to separate the cloves only at planting time, and to plant them 4-6 inches apart and 2 inches down.These cloves (which you must plant root-side-down) will sprout before the winter, but if properly covered (by mulch or a cold frame) will go dormant and survive the winter - even in New England.

After planting, I covered the squares with extra compost (instead of mulch).
I'm saying all this, but honestly, I have no idea whether this will work. Theoretically, I should be digging these up next June!

7. Check in with fall crops.Here's the lettuce in the front garden. I harvested the lettuce in the rear garden because the sun patterns have changed such that it's not going to get any full sun until spring. Also, I needed some lettuce for the fajitas I made with all the zillions of bell peppers I just harvested.

The turnips and beets - and the 3 radishes that survived the squirrels - are doing great, too. The beets were "topping out," or basically growing themselves out of the ground, so I packed some finished compost around the tops. This happened on my early crop of beets, and it worked just fine.

8. Admit defeat with the carrots. Again.I failed. Don't know why, but both crops this year have ended badly - with short, confused looking carrots. I've varied the soil textures, the sunlight, the amount of compost. They taste good, but it's embarrassing. I have to tell people that I planted dwarf carrots or something. More research needed.

9. Harvest the marigolds.
They were going to get squished by the coldframes, and their main job, which was to repel harmful bugs, is not as important now that it's fall. So now I'm just giving them away.10. Finishing touches, then tuck into bed.Add the coldframes. . . and then the windows.And then wait for things to grow!

Cold frames!!

2008-10-24T10:52:00.008-04:00

One of the many benefits of being married to a former home builder is that I can say things like, "gee, I wish my vegetables had cute little houses to protect them from the frost," and - viola! - I come home to discover exactly that. Two cute little houses to protect my tender plants from the encroaching winter.To prepare my garden for these boxes, and for last night's frost, I had to pull up the red pepper plants and hang them to dry in the garage.And then we moved the frames onto the gardens in front:Today, there's much to do:

harvest basil
harvest coriander
harvest carrots
turn compost and enrich beds
rip up squash vines
rip up tomatoes
"top" brussel sprouts (cutting off the top to encourage bud maturation)
plant garlic

I'll check back in later with updates and pictures. Enjoy the beautiful fall day!

Overdue autumn garden update

2008-10-18T00:39:00.015-04:00

Wowee. Is anyone else ready for this election to be over? When that happens, maybe I can go back to Massachusetts and remind myself what my husband, cat and garden all look like. Until then, it's pretty much all work and travel, all the time. At least it's been fun.

So I have Erik to thank for this update that he lovingly wrote for me to keep me connected to my, ahem, roots. Here 'tis:

I went out this morning in my role as surrogate gardener and I'm here to report that your garden is happy but it misses you.

As for the front garden. Your peppers are happiest of anyone out there. As you will see, you are continuing to get color on a couple but the majority seem to be pretty certain they're just going to be green. I had to stake up a few as they had been loosing the battle with gravity in our absence. None appear to be over ripening so I'm leaving them up for now.

Parsley and radishes all look great. Basil and chives are continuing their reliable presence. Lettuce is coming along nicely although at a seemingly slower rate than in the spring. The squash plant is still trying to pump out fruit despite the fact that it's support system is withering up.
And I've come to the conclusion that our brussell sprouts are just going to be small. The biggest ones at the base of the plant are all starting to bush out a little bit rather than staying in their compact little head of leaves. Maybe I should try to cook up a few? They're still no bigger than a quarter.
And finally, the sad news, the remaining cantaloupe won't be waiting for your return. Its stem somehow got disconnected and the fruit has turned a ripe-looking whitish orange. I don't know what order that happened in but I'm guessing it was somehow prematurely disconnected from the vine. It is currently the size of a softball. A little rot had set in and it had become home to a number of fruit flies but i took it inside anyway and cut it open. As you'll see it looked quite nice. In it's honor i did try some but to be honest the flavor was so so and it was pretty over ripe and soft.
To the back garden now. Turning the corner of the garage, I found the back garden awash in red. Lots of tomatoes are getting close to ripe and a number had ripened and returned to the ground while we were away. I assume you took down all the squash vines in the back corner because they are now gone. Carrots all look happy (at least the their little green head tips). Purple bean plant is still spitting out purple beans (see the picture of the husky little bean I found) and it has currently got the neighboring tomato plant in a convincing sleeper hold. It is hard to tell where the bean plant ends and the tomato plant begins. And there are some new pink flowers in the bed by the driveway. Compost has been added to and turned. The back compost looks great. Not smelly and I could only identify the most recent additions. The front has a ways to go though and is still very full.

I think that is it.

(Thank you, Erik! - This is what I've been up to here in Ohio.)

Not-a-pumpkin pie

2008-10-07T00:45:00.044-04:00

Toot tooot!! Arrruuuuuuggaa! Beep beep!

That, dear friends, is the sound of me honking my own horn.

This is because just this past weekend, I sucessfully transformed this:into this:(Thank you, Ramona)

That is to say, I harvested our not-pumpkins and turned them into the most indescribably delicious not-pumpkin-pie I've ever, ever had.

Backing up here. You see, these are not pumpkins:I know this because the seed packet sent to me by my mother described them as "really good acorn-type squash I forget the name." However, there are doubters in our midsts.

Laurie, for one. She swears it's a pumpkin. Now would you believe her?

Erik doubts, too! (this is his best skeptical look)But the real kicker is that my own mother is thowing me under the bus. She claims to have planted the same seeds, and, voila, out popped things that really really resemble pumpkins.
Thanks a lot, Mom.

So here's how to make it, in case you come across any not-pumpkins wherever you live. I've based this recipe loosely off of the Maple Pumpkin Pie recipe I found on Epicurious.com.

Phase 1: prepare not-pumpkin (or use canned pumpkin, but really, what's the point?)

1. Admire not-pumpkin2. Then get someone else to cut it in half. (I couldn't bring myself to do it.)3. Scoop out seeds (I saved mine for you...more on that later)

4. Bake face-down in oven at 400 degrees until soft.

5. Gather ingredients for crust:

2 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes

6. Mix dry ingredients in blender/food processor.

7. Add cold butter chunks and pulse until coarse meal forms. Add only enough ice water to help form dough. Do not over blend. (You can also use iced orange juice if you want.)

8. Turn out onto lightly floured surface, gently form into a ball and cut in half. Cover with plastic wrap, press into disks and refrigerate. The recipe said for 2 hours, but really, just do it until it's cold if you don't have time to wait.

9. Once chilled, roll out and place into pie plate. Pinch edges, poke surfaces with a fork (to prevent air bubbles from distorting the crust) and bake for about 10 minutes at 400 degrees. Set aside to cool.

10. Gather pie filling ingredients:

2 eggs
3/4 cup half and half (I didn't have any, so I used whipping cream and milk)
6 tablespoons pure maple syrup (use a little more)
3/4 teaspoon vanilla extract (use more)
1 1/2 cups not-pumpkin
6 tablespoons (packed) brown sugar (use a little less)
3 1/2 teaspoons all purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons pumpkin pie spice
1/2 teaspoon salt

11. Blend wet ingredients well in large bowl. Whisk dry ingredients in second bowl and add not-pumpkin. Add dry mixture to wet mixture and blend well.

12. Pour into pie crust and bake at 400 degrees for about an hour (a touch more) until it's all puffy and doesn't jiggle much when you shake the rack. Allow to cool. (Ha. We didn't and it was still amazing.) Serve with generous portions of fresh whipped cream sweetened with a tad of honey and vanilla.

We have stickers!

2008-10-04T23:23:00.004-04:00

The fantastic folks at Sticker Giant.com sent me a pretty little package filled with pretty little stickers . . . 1000 of them! So now I have to figure out what in the world to put them on. I started, as you can see above, with a jar filled with the chives I dried yesterday. Hey, if you want some stickers, let me know at citylovescountry@gmail.com

Preparing for winter; Part 1 + other miscellany

2008-10-03T21:22:00.014-04:00

Usually, fall is my favorite season. But this is not the usual year, for me. This year, I have a garden, and now fall means many new things, some of them ominous.

The gorgeous, almost violent bloom and harvest of this past growing season can't go on forever, and though I plan to try my hand at cold-frame crops over the winter, the time has come to prepare for the season ahead.

So I made a list . . .. . .and then ignored the list because 'turning compost' was #1 and I didn't want to do it.

So onto the tomatoes, which had to go.First, I had to disentangle them from the nine-zillion green twisty ties that secured them to innumerable bamboo posts:I salvaged what ripe tomatoes I could before sending the rest to the wheelbarrow, but most of them were destined for the compost bin.Here's the bed after I removed the tomato plants:
Ideally, I would immediately enrich the beds with finished compost, but when I went to check and turn the compost, I found it to be mid-cook and nowhere near finished. That is to say, it was very stinky and steamy. I don't think it comes through very well in this picture, but you can see some steam rising where I lifted a layer with the pitchfork:(it's not easy to stir and photograph compost simultaneously.

The other composter was further along. I knew this for several reasons. First, the volume had halved (several weeks ago, it was completely full). Second, it didn't reek. And third, it was much cooler. But it has a way to go because some of its components are still recognizable.I'm about to sound like an expert here, but in fact, I have no idea what I'm doing - this is all the result of a little research.)

After a season's worth a growth, it's a good idea to do something restorative for the soil (in addition to enriching with finished compost at some point). Farmers will often plant a crop that fixes the nitrogen in the soil into a more crop-friendly form and then acts as a "green manure" when it's tilled under and decomposes. Many plants in the legume family are good for this (such as buckwheat).

I had a couple to choose from (thank you, Mom), but I decided on the one that sounds like medicine you'd give a cat with indigestion: "hairy vetch."

The seeds of hairy vetch are small and round, like shrunken, smooth peppercorns. I dug up the squares where the tomatoes had been and planted several sprinklings of the seeds. I have no idea what to expect, but we'll see what happens.

While I was poking around in there, I came across a beautiful snail doing some serious damage to the pepper plants:He was relocated to the hydrangea bush.

The final thing on my list was the chives - they were out of control. So I chopped them all down and decided to give a go at drying them in the oven (despite the firm warnings on numerous websites about how they will lose their flavor).

Chopped them up, spread them on some cookie sheets and stuck them in the oven on the lowest setting:I had too many chives to dry in the oven, and I've always wanted to try chive scones, so I decided to try out a (half-made up) recipe:

Don't preheat the oven (I'll explain why later).

sift together:

1 1/2 cups white flour
2 tsps baking powder
1/2 tsp salt

blend with (I used a food processor)

3 tbps butter
1/2 cup (or more) fresh chives

Put flour mixture in bowl and make a well in the middle.
Pour in a little more than 1/2 cup milk, but you want to use as little as you can get away with so the scones will be more flaky than chewy.
Cut in the milk with a knife, and combine just to the point where it all hangs together. Over-working the pastry dough will make it tough.
Turn it onto a floured surface, and roll it out to about 1" thick. Cut the scones out (I used a cookie cutter because I didn't have anything else) and place on an ungreased cookie sheet.
I used an egg wash made of an egg white and a touch of milk, whisked together with a fork. Brush it over the scones.
Sprinkle lightly with fresh-ground pepper and a touch of coarse salt.

Now for the confusing oven part:

I recipe I was using for reference suggested putting the oven at 220 degrees, but after a minute or two, I decided that would be entirely too low a temperature, and cranked it to 405 and eventually to 430 degrees. So next time, I think I would just put them in a cold oven and set it to 405 degrees, so it could rise and bake a bit before reaching full temperature. After it reaches 405, turn it up to 430 so the tops brown a little. Once the tops are golden, they should be done, and it shouldn't take more than 20 minutes, tops.

Here they are (er, were, before Erik ate them all):He calls them "grass cookies." So I guess that's what they are!

Grape idea!

2008-09-23T20:58:00.017-04:00

('dem are some pretty grapes.)

Steve (the farmer/neighbor with the gigantic garden) grew them and suggested I take all I want because he leaves them for the birds. I've been taking him at his word and stopping by regularily to keep our house supplied with bowls full of beautiful concord grapes.

Today when I got home from work and was contemplating whether or not to go to yoga, I stood gazing out my kitchen window absent-mindedly nibbling on a bowlful when inspiration (or laziness) struck: it was time to make grape jelly.

Twenty minutes later, I was back in my kitchen with about five pounds of grapes and high hopes. This is the process:

Step 1: Admire grapes.
Step 2: Rinse grapes.Step 3: Pick stems off grapes (but don't try to be perfect, or you'll stand at the sink all day)Step 4: Stick the grapes in a blender and blend.Step 5: Line colander with cheesecloth (or have another great idea for how to separate the skins and seeds from the juice. I'm open to suggestions.)(I then secured the rim with a rubber band to keep the cheesecloth in place.)

Step 6: Pour grape goo into colander over pot to collect the juices.Step 7: Wait a very long time for this to drain.
Step 8: Get bored and manually squeeze the goo through the cheesecloth. This feels like squishing a full bladder wrapped in a washcloth. I'm guessing here.

Steps 9-?: (These steps are similar the end stages of the peach jam -- see that blog posting for more detail if this is confusing)

Add sugar to the juice (I added about 2 cups, perhaps less) and cook over medium/low heat for a while (60-90 minutes, until reduced). Sterilize jars (about 4 half-pint jars for 5 pounds of grapes) and lids. Ladle out a cup or so of the juice into a blender and add pectin powder (I use Pomona's Universal Pectin) and then recombine with the rest of the boiled mixture. Add calcium chloride water (it comes with the pectin, and activates it so you can make lower-sugar jams and jellies). Ladle into jars, tighten lids and process in a boiling water bath for 5-10 minutes.
(I'll take a better picture in the daytime)(That's a little better.)

And it's crazy tasty. But don't take my word for it.

Tomatoes down and brown

2008-09-21T22:36:00.020-04:00

Summer is over -- the tomatoes told me so. I walked out to the garden this weekend and found them, all yawns and elbows and bad posture, asking to be put to sleep for the winter.The cold nights are getting to them, and I'm pretty sure I prompted their early demise by inadequately supporting them throughout their growth.

Lesson learned: invest in those loonly-looking circular support thingies and don't rely on posts and twine to support indeterminate tomato plants.
So I harvested all of the red ones and am mentally preparing to bring down the whole crop pretty soon. Here's the haul + some basil and a few pole beans:
Garden eats are usually cheap as well as delicious, but tomatoes are the gateway fruit. Beautiful, fresh tomatoes and their bully friend, Basil, scream "turn us into a caprese salad!" and who am I to argue with the harvest?So I run off to the store to find some bufala mozzarella imported from (where else?) Italy to slice up and sandwich in between layers of ripe tomato flesh and basil leaves.

(this is not my picture:)Tomatoes? free. Basil? free. Bufala mozzarella? about $17.00/lb (about 2 of those balls). Makes about 6 caprese salads. That's crazy.

But oh, my, god. The flavors. Incomparable. They should use this to ease people off heroin.
In honor of my grandparents' visit this weekend past, we had a little dinner party with some of my favorite people. We had a garden meal of caprese salads, fresh spinach pasta (rolled out by little Ramona) tossed in garden pesto (see recipe), roasted pole beans with smashed garlic and served with no-knead, hot fresh bread (see recipe). And Matt brought a divine chocolate angelfood cake. It was a fabulous evening!-- Complete with dancing and somersaults.
Recipe for caprese salad:

(serves 2-3)

1. Grow/borrow/find/buy/steal:

3-4 gorgeous, good-sized tomatoes.
1 ball bufala mozzarella
small handful of basil leaves
good-quality extra virgin olive oil
good-quality balsalmic vinegar
coarse salt/pepper

2. Cut the stems out of the tomatoes and slice into rounds, about 1/2 inch thick.

3. Lay largest of rounds flat on serving plate (if making three salads, lay down three)

4. Slice mozzarella in rounds, slightly thinner. Lay one slice on top of each tomato slice.

5. Cover the mozzarella with 2-3 basil leaves

6. Drizzle with a little olive oil and then a little balsamic vinegar.

(The order is actually important, I've found, because without the barrier of the olive oil, the mozzarella takes up too much of the balsamic vinegar and gets soggy. You'll get a more pleasant separation of the flavors if you pour the olive oil first.)

7. Repeat until you've used up all your tomatoes and cheese, Top with a sprig of basil, oil and vinegar, sprinkle a touch of coarse salt on top and serve. Have pepper on hand in case you want it, but if the tomatoes are punchy enough, you will want them naked as the come.
Enjoy!

I have a new friend with a giant garden

2008-09-17T10:37:00.009-04:00

His name is Steve. Can you see him?Maybe you can't because the HUGE GARDEN that takes up his ENTIRE yard is in the way.

Can you see him here next to the 15-foot hight tomato plants?Or among his 10+ fig trees?Maybe he's hiding behind the escarole or the fennel.Oh, silly Steve. I guess he's shy. But that didn't keep him from chatting with me this morning and sharing some fresh figs.

I should retire my shovel out of deference to his urban gardening skills and manifest dedication. Apparently, he has to bundle up his fig trees at the end of each growing season and put them in his house. All ten! In his living room! And I think getting some chickens is a big deal.

Every square inch of his property is cultivated and trellised. He's semi-retired and spends his hours, largely with his sidekick-supercute grandson in tow, tending his crops. He's got gaggles of concord grapes within a week of peak ripeness which he claims to grow only for shade and he's invited me to pick as many as I want. This is too cool to be true. I have a neighbor who is a farmer who wants to give away his grapes and figs!

Finally! I drew you a picture.

2008-09-16T19:44:00.005-04:00

So. I was in yoga a few weeks back and I got to daydreaming (which is exactly what you're not supposed to do in yoga). An image popped into my head and wouldn't go away. It was of a hen making her nest in a pile of skyscrapers, and she looked both happy and determined to have her way.

That, I thought, is me. And that image is what I wanted to have represent this whole citylovescountry effort.

So I went to Bob Slate Stationer (this great paper/art store) and got myself a bunch of Pigma Micron pens and some drawing paper and set about to draw what was clucking contentedly in my brain. Life and work and scheduling interfered, and this project took way too long. But here is draft 1, and I'm throwing it out there for comment.

What do you think? I'm totally going to print it on a T-shirt and wear it around.

((Shameless self-promotion...))

2008-09-13T01:17:00.004-04:00

I've added this "gadget" that allows you/me to see who else is reading this blog if you're curious. I know I am!! You can find it at the bottom of this page. If you like that kind of thing.
:)

Jasmine in bloom

2008-09-13T00:50:00.006-04:00

The jasmine along the fence is finally in bloom . . .
and the critters are thrilled.The turnips are coming on strong (at least I think these are the turnips?)and the snails have so far shown restraint with the tender young peppers.
This basil is now in the freezer as part of a monster batch of pesto:
And I am giving away these beautiful red babies as fast as they ripen. Next year, I am planting only Brandywine tomatoes, though - mark my words.
Life is very, very good.

Fall is in the air . . .

2008-09-11T13:01:00.004-04:00

This is how it feels outside.

I took these pictures in Vermont a few years ago, and this morning, the chill in the air consolidated all available enthusiasm in one person in our household.

Erik - "Not happy."
Me - "?"
Erik - "Winter's here. It's practically snowing. All happiness has died."
Me - "What about apple-picking? The changing leaves? The brisk, blue skies?"
Erik - "I have to wear socks."

This summer has been one of the best summers of my life and yet I'm thrilled that fall is here. Though it signals a winding down of the natural world, to me, it signifies a kind renewal. Back to school. Cozy sweaters. Sharp #2 pencils. A distillation, a preparation, a sort of focus after the frenetic spawn of summer. And as much as seedlings poking through cold dirt in March embody life's reemergence, autumn reminds me that we are caught in this loop for another cycle, and there's as much to celebrate now as ever.