a meal

I made soup last night – corn chowder (in response to the comment “do you any idea how many bags of corn we have in the freezer?”).  And I pulled, along with the corn, a bag of roasted poblano peppers.  I groaned:  the bag was not sealed well, and was full of freezer burn.  I remembered the tedious task of roasting a pail full on the grill of our fire pit (thinking it would be easier than the grill?  Or maybe we were out of charcoal?).  It took way longer than I planned, and then there was the peeling, and seeding, sliminess, fingers covered with sooty green skin.  And in the end, the bucket was reduced to one quart bag, now crunchy and white with frost.

So I sigh, and break off a big handful, rinse them under the kitchen tap and chop them up.  When they hit the soup, a smell emerges, smokiness, a little sour. What if they make the entire soup taste off?  But the smell settles and turns more pleasant, and I continue on.  The thread of memory stretches back, all the way to a year ago when I started peppers seeds.  The Anchos did not sprout, it was a risk trying old seed, but I had overplanted and hoped for the best.  No huge loss:  I’d just buy a few plants.  So later in the spring, at the market, I pick up several plants (this too is a fiasco, they were mixed on a shelf and I end up home with a weird variety, so I re-buy another the next day at a second market, spending in the end much more than a seed packet on three sturdy plants).  But these are hardy things, way bigger than my home grown peppers, and it’s not a good year for peppers at all: cold for too long, then too hot.  These manage to grow happy and tall, laden branches leaning against the garden fence for support, heart-shaped fruit hanging down.  They are the subsidy peppers—always available for dinner or batch of salsa, making up the difference when I’m low on bells or banana peppers.

So at the end of the year I have a surplus; a few days’ picking was chosen for roasting and freezing.  I came in, smoky (last night D says, “I remember that day, you were grouchy”).  I probably had other stuff to do, but I finished up what I had started.  And 4 or 5 months later, I stand in front of the stove, stirring in a big bag of sweet corn.  The string of thought stretches ahead; peppers will be planted later this week.  I have a fresh packet of seeds.

And the soup?  Fantastic. 

tortellini

For us, getting chickens really was the slippery slope of eating more locally.  For example:  I never made pasta (or invested in a pasta roller) until we had an excess of eggs.   

This week's impulse idea was tortellini.  After our forays into potstickers, I realized we could probably manage these.

The filling was a cheese and spinach mix:  some of last season's frozen spinach, thawed and squeezed of as much juice as possible, and chopped fine.  A few kinds of cheese:  ricotta, parmesan, provolone.  Salt and pepper.  I just did this by eye and to taste.

We rolled the sheets to the thinnest setting.  Most recipes I found called for cutting into 2-inch rounds, though Bittman just used squares and I can see how there would be less waste that way.  They might not turn out quite as cute, however.

Brush the edges with egg white, put a dab of filling in the middle, and fold into crescents, pushing the filling out a bit and removing any airspace.

 Wrap the corners of the crescent around your finger, and seal the overlap with a little more egg white if necessary.

Boil vigorously for 3-5 minutes or until tender.  Best to sample one a few minutes in to be sure not to overcook.  Serve with your favorite sauce--this was summertime roasted tomato sauce flavored simply with a scoop of frozen pesto and some oregano. 

I can see making a ton of these for the freezer, but last night was a run-through: we made just enough for (a rather large) meal.  Out of the freezer with some defrosted sauce would make a super fast dinner, and they would be great for pasta salads in the summertime too. 

adding it up

When there's a lot of DIY activities in your life, sometimes you lose track of the value of the things you are able to do. 

Over the years we have built fences, a patio, the hoop house, raised beds: this year we are planning on terracing the hill in our back yard.  Indoors we have replaced doors, windows, done plumbing and electrical repairs.  D has built beautiful pieces of furniture, and I have made cushions, covers and curtains.  And since hiring out the work is really not an option for us, we usually don't have a clue how much we save.  We should probably get estimates before starting big projects, just to see what it would have cost, but we never do.

Foodwise though, it's a little easier to calculate the savings.  People always tell us we must not spend a lot on food since we grow so much of our own, but in reality our homegrown savings tends to just subsidize buying higher quality items.  We spend more than average on the food we can't provide (meat, dairy, fruit, coffee)--because we love to eat, and we like to support local and organic businesses.  

But, along the lines with the home repairs, we got to talking about how much we save on the home-made foods that we take for granted.  There are a few staples I always make for us:  yogurt, granola, and bread--really all baked goods.  So, I did some cost-outs. 

Yogurt:  at the co-op, Stonyfield organic plain (whole milk) containers are 3.79 for 32 ounces; non-organic (Sugar River, a local brand that uses the same milk that I buy) is 2.99 for 24 ounces.  When I make it myself, I can make the same amounts of organic for $1.75, and "regular" for $.86.  We use about a quart of yogurt a week, which works out to about $11 savings per month

Granola:  Again, from the co-op a locally-made brand of granola is about $4 a pound.  When I make it myself (using mostly organic ingredients from the bulk aisle), it's $2.28 a pound.  Since we go through a 3 pound batch most weeks, that's a savings of over $20 per month. 

Bread:  A loaf of whole wheat sourdough using the same flour as me (I buy from the bakery!) is $4.  I can make it for 78 cents.  

Crackers:  I've been making tons of these lately, cranking out batches with my pasta maker.  The basic batch (1.5 cups flour, 1/8 cup olive oil, plus some salt) costs all of 99 cents, using organic flour.  If I add cheese, the cost may go up a dollar; but, with add-ons like homegrown herbs or dried tomatoes, the retail value goes way up, for basically free.  (I've also thrown in leftover sourdough starter, which bumps up the yield as well).  Similar sized boxes at the store are 3 or 4 dollars, and often include added fats and sugars and other ingredients for storage purposes that aren't healthy anyway.

Obviously there is some simplification here;  I'm not including energy costs or water or tools (though  I'm pretty sure my 4 dollar garage sale pasta maker has paid for itself!)  I'm also purposely not including my time for these calculations.  For one thing, these are staples that I have done so often, they are routine, and get squeezed in-between daily tasks.  Also, for the most part this is the stuff I love to do, and the reason why I work less (for real money, anyway) is so that I have the time to do this.  To me, its not something I can put a value on.

Plan B

Although it's snowing off and on this morning, our non-winter has continued.  This past week we had 40 degree temps, though nights are still in the teens.  My low in the hoop since the 15th was 11 degrees, with highs in the 90s.  But, despite some balmy days, my seeds planted February 1st in the hoop have not sprouted, except for a few cilantro. 

So, plan B is a flat of cold-loving greens started indoors. On a heat mat, these sprouted in 3 days--that's more like it!  They won't be babied for long, as soon as they have true leaves they will move out to the hoop. 

I have learned over the years to start my sets later and later--especially for tomatoes. But, it's so very hard to resist planting this time of year.  Starting greens for the hoop (or low tunnels, or cold frames) helps with this craving; as does seeding slow-growing plants such as alliums.  We're about 12 weeks out from our last frost date, so this weekend I also planted three flats of onions and leeks. (I may have gotten a little carried away...but I'm somewhat of a novice still at starting onions and it seems we never have enough.)

I've probably shown this before, but I have a very minimalist set up for lights indoors.  I will add one or two more lights as things begin to sprout.   One reason I'm able to grow a garden full of plants with this small space is that I transitions flats out to a cold frame--and this year, the hoop house!--as soon as the days warm up.  It's somewhat of an effort to shuffle things around, but I find that early in the growing season I don't mind puttering, and having garden chores to do makes me more patient about waiting for the real season to start.  At any rate, there is a huge difference in plants grown in real sunshine, especially when you have such a crappy indoor set up, ha! 

Also to tide us over until spring, we always get a basket of forced bulbs for our anniversary-slash-Valentines day treat.  Every week there are more blooms, today I discovered these beauties hiding in the back.  Next fall I have to remember to squeeze a few bulbs in the hoop for early spring blooms. 

hoopdate, February 2012

I don't think it's *just* the unseasonable temps (though that helps); the return of longer days has made a big difference in the hoop house over the last week or two.  We have reached the magical 10 hours days here in South-Central Wisconsin, and everyone (wild birds, chickens, dogs, foxes) have happily welcomed the light back to our days. 

Even when outside we are having days in the 20s and 30s, inside the temperatures shoot up to the 70s and 80s.  That just didn't happen in January.  Stalks of kale (stripped of most of their leaves due to harvest and/or aphid problems this fall) are growing new leaves.  The spinach is recouping from fall harvests and really taking off.  Late fall plantings seedlings of misc. mustards, arugula, mache, and tatsoi are making an appearance, as are cilantro volunteers.

I love these baby mustards, and it's so nice to have something colorful to photograph this time of year!

The cilantro was my sign that I could start new seeding. I can check books, extension handouts, and friend's blogs, but the best way really to tell if conditions are right is probably just to let nature show you. 

Bordeaux spinach is growing fast, it seems more forgiving and robust than a lot of varieties, so I end up with a lot more of it than anybody else. This was planted September 6th, and was harvested in November/December.

So, February 1st I tentatively began planting, filling in empty spots with more cold-tolerant greens, and even an experimental row or two of beets and carrots.  The soil is soft and warm, and it feels SO GOOD to have dirt under my fingernails again!  The snow outside is disappearing fast, but I used El's trick of bringing in a few buckets to melt for watering.  Mostly it's still very humid inside--it rains when I jostle the hoop upon entering--but the top surface of the soil dries a bit on warm days, so I am watering the newly sowed areas, and a few awakening plants such as chives, to encourage them a bit. 

Harvests are teeny yet, but should be picking up soon. I'm actually making an effort to use up any frozen spinach and kale now, since the real deal is on its way.  Even if winter makes a return trip, inside the hoop it's almost spring!

learning to love the co-op

I shamefully admit I am really late to joining my local co-op. It's not that I never shopped there--and I was briefly a member of a struggling smaller co-op before it closed--it's just that I never felt like I went there enough to benefit from joining.

But, times change, and since I'm trying to support smaller and local business when I can,  joining Willy Street was one of the small steps I took in in this goal.  At the heart, I am a non-shopper, and I hate going to multiple stores to get everything I need.  Now that doesn't mean I hit the super-walmart, but it does mean I tend go to a larger, semi-local/semi-worker owned grocery, that has sundries such as toilet paper and bandaids and vinegar.  And yes, the co-op has many of these things, but I honestly can't afford to do all my shopping there.

Over the summer, I learned to love the side trips, and found the convenience of having local items like cheese and potatoes available on non-market days.   I also love their transparency in labeling, their bulk bins, and that they give a discount if you ride your bike.  I was happy this week to get their annual report, which noted that members contributed more than $180,000 to local charities this year (via a register donation program).  The idea of getting a statement of finances is enlightening in itself, and reinforces that I am a part-owner, not just a shopper. 

Its not all roses, I've had some customer service snafus (but that happens everywhere), and I admit to feeling at times a bit of the elitism/smugness that can be a criticism of such shops (Whole Foods, anyone?).  But at the end of the day, I'd rather get an enthusiastic lecture on kombucha than have a grey-faced stranger turn to me in the aisle and say "Don't you wish you never had to eat at ALL?" (This actually happened to me!  I was too stunned to reply...)

This past week or so I have been reading Trout Caviar's excellent book (of the same name), much of which is about wild foods of Wisconsin and Minnesota.  It fits in this discussion because he talks a bit about foraging in your own food-shed, helpfully including your own backyard AND your local businesses and markets.  While I might not currently be much of a wild foods forager, I could relate to the idea of how your habits change along with your growth as a cook, gardener, or more thoughtful consumer.  It's about having your eyes opened to what's available, whether it's an apple tree growing at the edge of a golf course, a cheese shop off the highway on your way to a camp-out, or a co-op a short detour from your usual bike route home. 

off season activities

Winter has finally arrived here!  The big lake is frozen over, ice shanties are inching farther out of the bays, and we've had enough snow that the skis and snowshoes have been put to use.  Waiting on another round of snow to start today, and the high is a balmy 9 degrees.  I love it. 

Inside I've puttered with a few sewing projects.  I made an apron as a gift, using the same pattern I made up last year.  The fabric is a Alexander Henry print called "Jardin de los Muertos".  

And for me, out of some awesome veggie fabric and some other scraps, new hot pads.  Pretty basic and functional, but so much better and brighter than the dingy ones we had been using.