One of my part time jobs is working at an orchard for a family with kin in Michigan. Hence, cherries, blueberries and the like find their way to our table. The arrival in Iowa of cherries this weekend marks the beginning of the fresh fruit season and a chance to upgrade from rhubarb. In another week or so there will be early apples and Missouri peaches shouldn’t be far behind. In the cycle of local food seasons it is a welcome turning point.
LAKE MACBRIDE— It’s June and Credit Island on the Mississippi River is expected to flood. Our U.S. Congressman was there yesterday to fill sandbags as part of an effort to prevent damage. Thing is, Credit Island has been flooding for as long as I can remember, and likely always will. People with businesses there should be used to it by now.
Part of the War of 1812 was fought on Credit Island, but I remember it more for the very flat golf course where my father, friends and I played from time to time. We would stop to hit a few balls into the river on the back nine.
Our CSA had an old walnut tree knocked over by the storms. It rests on the electrical wire, waiting for the electric company to come turn off the juice so the tree can be chainsawed and removed from the main entryway.
The report isn’t published yet, but the state climatologist said yesterday that Iowa had its third highest June rainfall since record keeping began. What was bad about the recent storms was their intensity— made worse by our changing climate.
Locally there was not much damage. Last year’s extreme storms took out the weak trees and shrubs, so besides straightening a few tomato cages, there was little work to do in the yard. The rain is feeding a jungle that needs mowing soon.
Conditions look perfect for getting outside. Something one hopes to do soon.
LAKE MACBRIDE— In a perfect world, friends would come over and we’d share vodka, zakuski and conversation for an evening.
Even though we have a bottle of Stolichnaya Vodka purchased in the 1980s in the basement (an inch or so has evaporated), and the fixings for a dozen or more little plates in the refrigerator and pantry, getting intoxicated by sweet, sour and savory hors d’oeuvres following shots of vodka is not going to happen.
Yet I imagine—damn you frontal lobe, your machinations and your dreams.
But there it is. In chilled small shot glasses, a dose of vodka followed by a homemade multigrain cracker spread with pesto.
An interlude of conversation while the next course is prepared.
A shot of vodka, and a small plate of beets and daikon radishes pickled with jalapeno peppers. More conversation.
A shot of vodka, and a tiny ceramic cup with rhubarb crisp. More conversation and a slight buzzing sensation.
A shot of vodka. A mixture of Kalamata olives, pickled chard stems and capers, served on small plates from the thrift store. And so it would go.
Except it’s not going to happen. The toll of vodka would be too much, though the conversation and releasing of inhibitions tempting. Who in today’s consumer society pays a visit to chat with zakuski? If our doorbell rings at all, it is a canvasser, not friends seeking to share tales of our lives on the Iowa prairie.
The world outside is of fallen trees and washed out ditches from last night’s extreme weather, part of a bleak day with multi-colored sky.
At a political event in town last night, about a fourth of the attendees cancelled due to the weather.
Trees were down all around the lake. Mill Creek rose up out of its banks.
“Our giant old walnut tree came down in the storm taking my farm’s main power line with it as well as my yard light pole,” came the report from our CSA. “The amazing thing is we still have power but until REC gets out here to shut off the power we have live wires on our driveway and the tree is blocking our road. Given the size of the tree I suspect it will take us several days to get the driveway cleared.”
Two trays of seedlings for the garden blew over, leaving work to salvage them this morning—the least of problems in a storm-wrecked world.
One dreams of zakuski, and lives in the material world with its fallen trees, blocked roads and disruptions, seldom stopping for the human possibilities dreams create.
It’s time to spread the pesto on plain toast and get on with the day.
LAKE MACBRIDE— The rain has been less than normal according to the state climatologist.
The three spring months of March, April and May averaged 45.5° or 2.8° below normal while precipitation totaled 8.82 inches or 1.40 inches less than normal. This ranks as the 32nd coolest and 68th driest spring among 142 years of record. This season was uneventful compared to the two previous springs with 2012 setting a record for warmest spring and 2013 being the wettest on record.
Plants in the garden, including weeds, seem to be thriving, despite the news.
With the recently referenced turnip harvest, it became time to make summer soup. Here are some basic directions, however soup doesn’t have many rules, so readers should feel free to add what’s fresh, going bad and available.
Peel and slice a bowl of spring turnips into 1/8-inch rounds and place into the bottom of a Dutch oven. Pour a quart jar of soup stock on top and turn the heat to high.
Peel and cut two large carrots into rounds, dice a stalk of celery and an onion and add them to the pot.
Roughly chop cooking greens and add.
Drain and wash one can prepared black beans, and add.
When the liquid comes to a boil, add a quarter cup pearled barley. Add dried chervil leaf, dried bell peppers and three bay leaves. Salt and pepper to taste.
Add a quart of canned tomato juice and more soup stock to cover.
After coming to a boil, reduce the heat to a slow simmer and put the lid on, stirring occasionally.
Serve on a bed of rice or with crackers.
LAKE MACBRIDE— There were big coolers full of garlic scapes and kale available at our CSA pickup point this week. It’s time to make:
Kale and garlic scape pesto
2 cups garlic scapes cut into thin slices
8-10 leaves kale, stems removed and rough chopped to make processing easier
2/3 cup toasted walnuts
Extra virgin olive oil
to achieve desired texture (1 to 1-1/2 cups)
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
Salt and pepper to taste
Place scapes, kale, and nuts in the bowl of a food processor and grind until well combined and somewhat smooth but not completely pureed. Slowly drizzle in oil and process until desired texture is achieved (hint: not too much). Empty the contents into a mixing bowl and add cheese, salt and pepper to taste. Put it into small canning jars and keep one in the refrigerator and freeze the rest.
This fellow may look cute, but I caught it approaching the trays of seedlings set near the front steps. Celery, peppers and broccoli were within inches and moments of rabbit consumption when I pulled up in my vehicle after returning from the newspaper. There were three of them frolicking in the long, wet grass last night.
As long as they stay out of the garden, I don’t mind. There is clover to eat, and little human contact toward the back of the lot near the mulberry and Blue Spruce trees.
I’m no Elmer Fudd, and won’t go hunting rabbits. Other natural predators almost always take their toll and reduce the population. By mid-summer there are usually no noticeable rabbits.
That said, it wouldn’t take long for a rabbit to decimate certain crops, so I train a wary eye on them when they are out and about in the habitat we created— one that suits them so well.
A lot is at stake during the 2014 midterm elections. Some of us would say there is always a lot at stake– with every legislative session, with every local initiative, with every city council and school board meeting, and with every encounter with a neighbor, friend, relative or stranger. Just about everything matters on the Iowa prairie. There is plenty to write about.
At the solstice, moving into my second of three months of summer editorship of Blog for Iowa, it is important to get the lay of the land politically. There is no way to do it other than from a ground view, and that means a few things are worth mentioning… in addition to rabbits.
First, there are only two political campaign subjects that people I meet in daily situations are talking about: Hillary Clinton and Terry Branstad.
Copies of Clinton’s recently published memoir are available everywhere books are sold and people are talking about her. The conversation goes something like, “what do you think about Hillary Clinton?” The question is both probing and indicative of the asker’s interest in her. I have little response, except to say “we’ll see if she runs.” She has become such a superstar that the idea of getting up close and personal with her is a dream (or if readers are wingers, a nightmare).
Regarding the governor, people say they have had enough of him. With his political barn signs dotting the landscape, extensive name recognition, and a well-funded campaign war chest, he holds the advantage going into the summer campaign. Many people won’t decide on the gubernatorial race until late October, so there is time for Jack Hatch to close the gap if he works smart.
Something else noticeable at the ground level is how intent most people seem in their lives, to the exclusion of concerns outside their immediate sphere of influence. All of the busy-ness precludes action on solutions to global problems and is more of a concern than whether people are ready for Hillary or tired of Branstad. As Marshall McLuhan’s global village failed to take root in the U.S., it is needed more than ever.
LAKE MACBRIDE— Yesterday was a muddy morning in the garden with dirt getting all over. When a gardener says he is close to the earth, that is it means. Using the hose, I washed off my legs and shoes, and took a shower after processing the vegetables.
I harvested turnip greens for soup stock and this morning there are more than four gallons processing a batch at a time in the water bath. In late July I hope to plant more for fall harvest, and supplemental stock. Considering a cost between $3 and $4 per box at the store, soup stock is money.
Despite the general disaster in the first garden plot, the kale looks nice, and there is spinach between the weeds. The lettuce and arugula grew, but are past picking. The space needs replanting, but it will be a different crop.
The tomatoes look fabulous with luxuriant leaves and many flowers.
Apples are coming along and it will be a small crop.
Four trays of seedlings remain to be planted. As soon as the ground dries out a bit, it shall be done.
Already it is solstice, and the days get shorter from here. It won’t be a great gardening year. It will be good.
LAKE MACBRIDE— The Harvard Business Review wrote about the application of mise en place to daily planning. While most of us are not professional chefs, laying out the ingredients of a day and conceptualizing the execution can make us more effective in the way it aides the best chefs.
“What’s the first thing you do when you arrive at your desk?”asked author Rod Friedman. “For many of us, checking email or listening to voice mail is practically automatic. In many ways, these are among the worst ways to start a day. Both activities hijack our focus and put us in a reactive mode, where other people’s priorities take center stage. They are the equivalent of entering a kitchen and looking for a spill to clean or a pot to scrub.”
Like many people, I check my email, the Washington Post, BBC, Guardian and my twitter news feed before turning on the light in the bedroom. The problem is obvious. A friend wrote a note about a meeting next week, which I read around 3 a.m., and have been thinking about since. While interested in the content and potential outcome from the note, it was a disruption that could have been handled differently. The first thing I did after turning on my computer was to write a response.
I’ll try mise en place as a planning tool a few times and see if it helps make my days more productive. Today is soup stock day— a perfect place to start.
As a writer, mise en scène is more engaging than mise en place. Borrowed from film theorists, mise en scène is a step ahead of mise en place in that it considers what goes into the camera frame and sound track, which when combined with cinematography and editing tells a specific narrative. Mise en scène sets the time and space of a creative narrative whereas mise en place is prep work to create a specific result. Both have measures of effectiveness, but mise en scène enables better creative possibilities.
It wouldn’t hurt to assemble and think about the elements of a narrative before writing, and to an extent we do that. Yet the process of writing is such that once we go down the rabbit hole of a particular topic, the outcomes have more diverse potential. We often don’t know where we will arrive, or how, at the beginning.
A case could be made that we should begin with the end in mind— not making that case here. Writing is a métier that includes processing diverse experiences and making some sense of them. It is impossible to know the end unless the piece is utilitarian the way a letter to the editor or newspaper article is.
Since writing is a lowly paid occupation— its meager income supplemented by farm and warehouse work— managing time is a must. Some may labor for days over a 500-word essay, but it is more important to crank it out, take the learning and improve during the next piece. Mise en place may help us do that more effectively with better results.
LAKE MACBRIDE— The Cedar River was swollen with recent rain as I crossed on the Solon-Tipton Road bridge for my sawyering job. Water moving to the sea on this water planet.
It was a physically demanding day, and I slept well last night. What for breakfast? Now the trouble begins.
Being a wheat eater, the first meal of the day usually includes bread, pancakes, muffins, or the like. There may be dairy in the form of milk, eggs, cheese or butter. If I feel like grating potatoes for hash browns, that will do. All of this indicating a diet that has changed little since my forebears arrived in North America from the British Isles some 350 years ago.
Occasionally I make some granola, or buy a box of cereal at the market. Oatmeal is a winter staple, and if there is fruit around, that’s nice too. The fact that a leftover grapefruit sits in the refrigerator since Saturday indicates fruit has not been an important part of breakfast, even if it should be.
The pantry is loaded with things to spread on toasted bread. Several kinds of pesto, half a dozen types of apple butter, preserves from locally grown grapes, wild blackberries and raspberries. There are more types of spreads forgotten than remembered. Too, there is more to life than jam on toast.
In the end, breakfast is easy to figure because the ingredients have been around for a long time. It typifies my cooking that I don’t really want a plan of what to have for breakfast.
If we rethink breakfast, it should be in the moment, a creation based on what’s available, what’s going bad soon and what’s possible. The list of variables is not that long, so “creation” is the better usage.
Lately breakfast has been my main meal, with snacks and sandwiches carrying me through the rest of the day. It is time to better consider this important meal and make it better.
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