NORTH LIBERTY— One of my part time jobs is working at a Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) farm a few hours each week. The jobs are always interesting. Yesterday I delivered the first shares to customers in the parking lot of the First United Methodist Church. The nearby food pantry receives three shares plus any extra produce or unclaimed shares. This week’s share was baby bok choy, garlic chives, asparagus, lettuce, mixed greens, and for those that ordered them, a dozen eggs. Our customers are always pretty cool, and were talkative last night.
Asparagus
The quality of vegetables is always surprising and consistent. The sorting and packing takes most of a day’s work, and it is remarkable how much of care goes into each weekly share. While field workers in the Central Valley of California, Mexico, Peru or Immokalee, Florida may exercise care in their harvests, it is the personal and special treatment of CSA workers that makes a difference. We know the face of our farmer and that makes it personal.
Garlic Chives
I checked the garden and it is sopping wet still. We have had 1.61 inches of rain during the last seven days. The seeds are germinating, and it looks pretty good so far. However, the ground needs digging up, lettuce and kohlrabi transplanted, and fences put up. It will just have to wait until the ground dries out.
In the meanwhile, our kitchen is active this morning, making a breakfast stir fry that includes some bok choy, mixed greens and other delicious vegetables, mostly from local sources.
Asian Greens in Scrambled Eggs with Vermont Cheese and Pickled Bits and Pieces
LAKE MACBRIDE— The first share from the Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) farm was ready yesterday— asparagus, lettuce, baby bok choy and Asian greens. Anticipation over spring and summer cooking is building, even if living on bits and pieces from the pantry will continue until the full flow of local produce is unleashed. Picking up the share at the farm was a fine beginning.
We had more than two inches of rain since Earth Day, so outdoor plants are growing. The garden is too wet to work, although as soon as the soil dries, seedlings are ready to go into the ground. Meanwhile I will go on living in society, and that is today’s topic.
The phrase “in society” has a particular usage here. It is part of a spectrum of relationships with people that contrasts with “chez nous,” the French term that refers to “at home” or “with us.” Maybe there is something else on this jumping green sphere (thanks Lord Buckley for this phrase), “outside society” or “foreign,” but most of our lives are spent chez nous or in society. My tag “homelife” could be changed to “chez nous” and sustain the meaning.
Living in society is that set of relationships which sustains a life on the plains. It includes friends, family, neighbors, workplaces, institutions, retail establishments, and organizations with which we associate or interact. The relationships are interpersonal, that is, specific people are associated with each part of society— it is not an abstraction.
When young, we don’t see our life in society this way. We had an ability to live in the moment without a history of interpersonal relationships, anchoring us into something else. As we age, we are more like a character in a William Faulkner novel that must work to suppress the endless flow of memory.
If experience connects us, the way we live in society is based on thousands of previous interactions. For example, someone ran for the U.S. Senate after a long, productive life. If I saw him today in any of a number of settings— at a retail store, at the retirement village, at a literature reading, at a veterans meeting, at a public demonstration— I would think of the courage he displayed by taking on personal debt to challenge an entrenched incumbent politician who would otherwise have run unopposed. I would also think of our many conversations over a period of years. Our relationship is driven by my respect for his courage, and I picture him when I think about the associations we share. When I use the phrase “in society,” it might be referring to an interaction we had, or one like it with someone else.
My usage of the phrase “in society” may have been explained by others who are smarter, but because it is organic there is a peculiar sense to it on this blog. It is personal, but not really, because is it also public.
I am entering one of the richest periods of personal interaction in life. Old enough to have had experience, and young enough to gain new ones. Each day’s potential is vast midst the galaxy of people with whom I interact. Favoring the phrase “in society” enables me to talk about them without revealing where the specific interaction may have occurred. This protects people from unwanted intrusion into their lives, and enables the writing I do for a couple of hours each day.
Chez nous, we would have had breakfast of Asian greens mixed with scrambled eggs, Vermont cheddar cheese and pickled veggies from last season. In society I am part of the local food movement and post photos of my breakfast. Maybe I am drawing a fine line, but it is an important one for a writer.
LAKE MACBRIDE— Dressing pasta is a culinary practice with so many variations, it is difficult to justify a single recipe over others. It is a matter of taste, available ingredients and tradition, so far be it from me to set anything in stone.
Prepared pasta sauce— the industrial food kind— is available at warehouse clubs and grocery stores, but it is hard to imagine ever bringing a jar home when it is so easy to make it in the kitchen. Here’s how.
Drain a quart of canned whole tomatoes in a colander, reserving the liquid.
Heat a skillet on medium high heat and coat the bottom with extra virgin olive oil. Use the best oil you have.
Dice a medium onion according to preference and sautée in the heated oil.
Season with salt and pepper.
Mince five cloves of garlic and add to the pan. Cook until the onions are translucent. Don’t let the garlic burn.
Season with dried oregano and basil, fresh if you have it.
Add six ounces of tomato paste. Stir and heat until you can smell the tomato.
Add the drained whole tomatoes, chopping them with the edge of a spoon while stirring the mixture.
It is optional to add protein at this point. We use Morningstar Farms® Recipe Crumbles, although browned ground beef, pork, chicken, tofu, seitan or others could be substituted.
Once the ingredients are thoroughly incorporated, add the reserved tomato juice until the sauce has the desired fluid characteristics. Store any leftover juice in a jar in the ice box, or drink it.
Adjust seasoning.
Turn the heat to low and and simmer until the pasta is cooked.
LAKE MACBRIDE— Taking the last of the root vegetables– four kinds of potatoes, three kinds of turnips, and beets– and six jars of canned goods, two kinds of beans, barley, peas, onion, celery and carrot, I made the last batch of winter soup last night. It cooked until bed time, when we turned the heat off to sleep. In the morning, I brought the mixture to a boil, then turned the heat down to simmer until it becomes soup.
All that’s left in the fridge from last year’s local harvest is a couple of daikon radishes and some cabbage. There is plenty of garlic in the pantry, and a single spaghetti squash, but that’s it for fresh. It will be a few weeks until spring produce begins to come in at the markets. The soup and remaining canned goods will have to last.
Yesterday, I finalized plans for a presentation titled, “Living Non-traditional Lives: Focus on Finances.” It is part of the American Library Association “Money Smart Week,” which is a national initiative in its fourth year between the ALA and the Federal Reserve Bank (Chicago) to provide financial literacy programming to help members of our community better manage their personal finances.
Here’s the blurb I posted on Facebook: “Will be speaking at the Solon Public Library on April 12 about living without working a conventional 5 x 8 job as part of Money Smart Week. I plan to focus on: my personal work history, including what it means to be a writer in a time of social media; the role of jobs, the role of households and family, and personal finance in alternative lifestyles (banking, debt, income, taxes, bartering, health care, transportation, communications), deciding what’s important (community engagement, family, stress management, health, time management).”
My Climate Reality colleagues are meeting in Johannesburg, South Africa today where Al Gore is making his slide show presentation. The organizers didn’t know the exact number of attendees, as visa and finance problems deterred some who had registered. However, it looks like about 700 new members of the Climate Reality Leadership Corps, from many nations, will join us at the conclusion of the 24th training session.
SOLON— When one is connected to the community, it is hard not to like Big Grove Brewery. The city council invested a forgivable loan to get them to build at the corner of Main Street and Iowa Avenue, and unlike the last microbrewery in town, this one scaled to a size to brew lots of beer, accommodate large gatherings and employ a lot of people. They opened Aug. 29, 2013. On a Thursday night, the place was packed with a five minute wait for a table.
My connections to the restaurant are many. Last night, a neighbor greeted me upon entry, handing me a glass of house beer. The subject of one of my newspaper articles was having dinner with his wife and provided positive feedback on my story. I’ve been in the kitchen delivering herbs from the farm, and three of the farms where I worked last year are suppliers. Chef Ben Smart and I share an acquaintance who gave up a job in a Washington, D.C. public relations firm to become a chef. They met at the Herbfarm near Seattle, Wash., where Smart was executive sous chef.
I’m not sure how many jobs were created by this business, but more than 40 people were in their initial staff photograph. The managing partner of the business was busing tables last night and seems to have his fingers on the pulse of the community. It’s all good, but what else would I say?
The kitchen has a high temperature pizza oven, and we each had a 12 inch pizza and took some home. She had Pizza Margherita, topped with San Marzano tomato, fresh mozzarella, basil, olive oil and sea salt. I had the Ham and Egg with La Quercia prosciutto, arugula, pesto, soft cooked local eggs, confit potato and Parmigiano Reggiano. We had a side order of caramelized carrots made with red onion, Parmigiano Reggiano, pine nut, arugula pesto, endive and preserved lemon. For beverages camomile tea and the aforementioned beer. Check out their seasonal menu at www.biggrovebrewery.com.
The vegetarian dishes that were on the menu last year are no longer there. Some friends came from Stone City for the roasted Brussels sprouts, which are now out of season. The dynamic of this restaurant will be whether or not they follow commercial interests, or can develop enough of a market for local, seasonal dishes to continue to be offered, including ample offering of vegetarian fare. In Iowa we like to repeat our favorite meals and dishes and the seasonal menu could get sanded off in the workshop of what sells. I hope not because a vegetarian can live on salad, pizza, side dishes and beer only for so long.
Two pizzas, a side and one paid beverage cost $45.63 with gratuity. It’s a little high for frequent dining, but a competitive price for the quality.
Try Big Grove Brewery in Solon. It’s a great place to get together with friends and celebrate from time to time. The initial energy from the opening has not worn off. Hopefully it never will as the establishment becomes part of the community.
LAKE MACBRIDE— Newspaper writing and club demonstrations have taken a toll on everything else as I developed a process to incorporate new work and income into this life. Winter is a good time for it.
Seven adult deer were browsing in our yard. With a full girth, they appeared healthy, but were seeking food where there was none. One rose on its rear legs to nibble a pine tree. Others browsed the stubble that is the winter garden. One was favoring its right rear leg, limping along. A herd of scavengers.
The refrigerator light came on as I opened the door. It illuminated heads of cabbage, a drawer full of root vegetables, organic carrots and celery from California, and leftover soup and apple cider. The end of fresh food is near.
There are pickles. Beets, cucumbers, radishes, tomatoes, chard stems, sauerkraut… the makings of zakuski. All one needs is a bottle of vodka and friends stopping over. The former is more available than the latter, as in 21st century Iowa, unexpected guests are mostly youths seeking empty cans and bottles for their deposits, and strangers who want something. Such guests are seldom invited inside. Vodka acquired decades ago evaporates in unopened bottles.
It’s my weekend, with no paid work until Wednesday. It’s time to finish up winter work— taxes, garden planning, vehicle maintenance, house cleaning— and get ready for spring.
LAKE MACBRIDE— In January, the vision of the future is a weed-free and abundant garden. Beginning with a stack of blank pages, through several iterations, vegetables are considered and a plan is made. The change in 2014 is that I am ordering some of the seeds online from Johnny’s Selected Seeds, an employee-owned company used by some of the local growers. It’s time to get the order in and make a schedule for the work of soil preparation and planting.
In past years, some seed catalog companies took my order and money, then blew off sending me the seeds. Heck of a way to run a business, but that is what happened. After that, I bought seeds locally at the grocery store or the discount house. The varietal options are much better at Johnny’s, so I am going to give it a try. I am particularly interested in pelleted seeds which make some of them easier to plant. Fingers crossed.
The garden plan includes the idea that we are part of a local food system and bartering labor for food. I struck two deals similar to last year, to process farm seconds and share the results; and to exchange a fixed number of hours of labor for a share in a CSA. What this means is certain vegetables will be plentiful from the farms and my garden can contain less tomatoes, eggplant, garlic, onions and peppers. That frees up space to plant more carrots, broccoli, cucumbers and other vegetables of which we can’t get enough. We can experiment with new items, like I plan to do with celery and Daikon radishes. In a local food system, produce used in the kitchen comes from a network of suppliers, and my garden will be an example of how that will work. In some ways, being part of a local food system is the opposite of “growing your own food.” It is about community and shared labor more than about what’s in it for me.
The rest of the year’s planning will be about how to fund cash flow through our household. When I re-directed in 2009, it was unclear how things would shake out. Now I realize the importance of budgeting income and expenses, and am working to generate enough income to live, and add to our net worth. The year is off to a good start as I start a second part-time job next week. Outside the bartered positions, I have four paid gigs lined up in 2014. I would like more, and the prospects for finding them seem pretty good. What I don’t want is to rely upon a single job as the main source of financial income.
Being optimistic about life comes with the turf of home gardening. I am hopeful 2014 will be another good year in a garden situated in a turbulent world.
LAKE MACBRIDE— It’s hard to go wrong making soup. The dish is tolerant of variation, and is as diverse as can be. Soup is a pantry-based dish, good to use vegetables up, and has been the basis for meals since forever. It’s a never ending experiment in living. Here is how I made it today.
There were five components to this batch of soup: roots, soup base, canned soup, barley and frozen corn and peas.
I picked five different types of root vegetables from the refrigerator drawer and counter: hakurei and purple top turnips, rutabaga, kohlrabi and potato. The point was to use what was on hand. These roots were grown in my garden, and on three different farms, so I know them well. I peeled and diced them into small, uniformly sized pieces, then covered them with cold water in a Dutch oven, and cooked until tender. I poured the whole lot into a strainer placed inside a stainless steel bowl to separate the roots and save the cooking water. The roots went back into the Dutch oven, reserving the liquid.
Soup base is a form of local frugality. In our kitchen, I make and use a lot of vegetable stock. What I call soup base is the remains of vegetables after straining away the cooked stock. I process the cooked vegetables through a food mill and can the result in a water bath. Soup base adds both flavor and texture to soups, and helps thicken them. At this point, I added a quart to the roots.
A farmer friend had a lot of kale at the end of the 2012 season. She typically mows everything down and plants a cover crop, but called me the day before to ask if I wanted any kale. I took a bushel and made soup from the pantry and canned it. The quart jars can be eaten as-is, but lately I prefer to use them as an ingredient. I added a quart of vegetable soup to the pot.
After stirring the mixture, I added enough of the root cooking liquid to cover, along with a quarter cup of pearled barley.
The mixture simmered the better part of four hours— until it was soup. At the end, I added a cup each of frozen peas and cut corn.
The next step to making a meal is flexible. The old way was to lay a plank of thick, coarse bread in the bottom of a bowl and ladle soup on it. It could be topped with bits of browned meat for omnivores, or seitan or fried or baked tofu for vegetarians. Salt and pepper and you’re ready for a hearty winter meal made from local ingredients, one that stands up to the test of time.
LAKE MACBRIDE— Six pounds of tart cherries from Michigan were buried below frozen corn, eggplant and broccoli in the freezer drawer. The cherries were frozen in one bag, so I thawed them and separated and strained the liquid to use in a separate dish, and make coffee cake with part of them.
The recipe calls for one can of cherry pie filling, but substituting fresh frozen cherries takes only a bit of preparation. In a large pan, measure three cups of pitted cherries and place on medium heat. Add one half cup of honey, a tablespoon each of white flour and corn starch, and a scant teaspoon of cinnamon. I’m from Iowa, so I use corn starch, but other thickeners will work, including potato starch, arrowroot, or flour only. Stir gently until the mixture thickens completely and set aside to cool.
The batter is in two parts, the cake and topping.
Cake dough: Cream one stick of softened, unsalted butter with one cup of granulated sugar in a mixer. On low speed, add two cups of white flour and one teaspoon baking powder. Mix thoroughly and add 3/4 cup of milk. When the ingredients are thoroughly mixed, press the dough into a greased, spring form pan. I line my pan with parchment paper, but that is optional.
Topping: Cream one stick of softened, unsalted butter with one cup of granulated sugar in a mixer. On low speed, gradually add one cup of flour and mix until the dough turns into crumbs.
Pour the cooled cherry mixture on the dough in the pan and sprinkle on the topping.
Bake for 45 minutes in a 325 to 350 degree oven. Allow coffee cake to cool before serving, although it will be hard to wait. I reserve superlative descriptions for dishes like this when I say, “it is insanely good.”
SOLON— In this small town, people got to talking about the food supply chain when a cooler full of processed chickens fell off a truck destined for the local food bank. The chickens were rejected after the media publicity generated a call from a government agency saying the poultry could not be distributed to the needy. Someone else stepped up with substitute chickens to fill the gap, which can happen in our good hearted community.
That someone raised chickens for the food bank is pretty cool, but is not the whole story. The chickens were discarded because they were not USDA inspected and stamped at a small slaughter abattoir, not because they fell off the truck. As a culture, we are overly reliant on a government food inspection system that may play a role in our legal system, but does not make common sense. It is an example of how we have lost touch with where food comes from and what home cooks have to do to make sure they serve healthy, nutritious meals. The town will be talking about this incident for a while.
On Aug. 30, 1890, President Benjamin Harrison signed the first law requiring inspection of meat products. The law required that USDA, through the Bureau of Animal Industry, inspect salted pork and bacon intended for exportation. Exports of U.S. livestock, and meat products, had fallen under increasingly stringent restrictions by foreign countries. Producers urged the U.S. government to create an inspection program to enable them to compete in foreign markets. Over the years, inspections came to protect the giant agribusinesses and prevent entry, and run out of business, small scale operators like the slaughter abattoir mentioned.
With the rise of consumerism during the 20th Century, notably after Upton Sinclair published his exposé of Chicago slaughterhouses in 1905, meat inspections became de rigueur. President Theodore Roosevelt led passage of the Meat Inspection Act, and the Pure Food and Drug Act, after overcoming his initial dislike for Sinclair. While the slaughterhouses were undeniably gross, as Joel Salatin pointed out in his book, “Folks, This Ain’t Normal,” there is no substantial evidence of mass meat adulteration or related human sickness prior to Sinclair’s reports. For more information about the history of U.S. meat inspections, click here.
The consumer protection side of this issue gained public attention during a 1993 outbreak of e. coli bacteria in ground meat. Following the Al-Qaeda attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, food security came under the umbrella of homeland security concerns. The fear of pathogens in our food supply has become an obsession among some, and the Solon incident is evidence of how ridiculous things have become. What whit of difference would the USDA stamp have made on this batch of chickens? None whatsoever.
Arthur Schlesinger, in his book, “The Cycles of American History,” had me asking the rhetorical question, “what mood are you in?” It seems clear to me that the public purpose we once held our politicians and public figures to has given way to private interest… to the extent a farmer can’t raise chickens and give them to the needy in our society without some petty bourgeois official saying, “no, it’s against the rules, and my corporate masters have deemed them unsafe.” What a sad state of affairs this is, one that serves large corporations more than people who both have chickens and hunger, but prevents them from getting together.
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