MamaStories

We’re moving ourselves and the rest of our stuff this weekend. Then we need to unpack, figure out which boiler and water heater to buy and who should install it. Then insulation. Then select the wood stove (any suggestions? the choice on the market is overwhelming, but we don’t want to go pellets).

And that’s it for the big things in the house. Some will unfortunately have to wait till next year: the solar water heater, for instance.

Then, finally, we’ll be turning our attention to the garden. Those.7 acres - isn’t it lovely, that though you don’t have a whole acre really, you still get to say point-seven-acres?

As I look at all that outdoor space, my big vision is looking too, over my shoulder. And I keep telling myself: keep the dream big, but take manageable steps. First things first: get the soil ready for next year.

As for the edible garden. Where and how to clear the stones and the brush and the saplings and the poison ivy for next season’s veggie and fruit garden? Where to get compost and mulch? Should we top it all up with some topsoil? What to fence in? Should we bring down some of the larger, more lovely trees to “make” sunlight?

As for the front yard. Due to the huge new leach field, most of it won’t be used for edible  or deep-rooted plants, so what to grow there then?

And what to grow in the “relaxation” and “entertainment” garden round back?

Dreaming big…

We’re back from a week in Toronto, mostly recuperating at my Aunt and Uncle’s place. Soon, I promise, there will be news about Amie’s now incessant “why?” question, her need for getting naked to go “swimming” at the most inopurtune moments, potty-training (almost complete), and more puzzling (with 24 pieces) and drawing (clothes are now in the picture as well!). And maybe I’ll reveal some about my novel (been getting requests)…

But first, a question to my readers (well, some of them, the farmers and gardeners in particular)…

One of our first priorities at the house is sowing a cover crop on the soil that was disturbed and left bare by the installation of the septic system. A lot of that beautiful dark humus-like topsoil - years if not decades of leaves had been allowed to stay and degrade where they fell - has unfortunately been turned under, and in many places what is at the surface now is light brown subsoil.

So: what should I sow to protect that bare soil from washing or blowing away, and to prime it with new organic matter and nitrogen for growing vegetables, herbs, berry bushes and fruit trees come next spring?

Crimson clover, hairy vetch? Rye? A combination of any or all of these? I don’t mind resowing as the seasons change from warm to cold. I’ll be cutting it down with a scythe and turning it under with a fork, but we’re only talking 0.4 or so acres.

Filling the sugar pot (great small motor control exercise!):

Stretching the pizza dough with Baba:

Eat:

- I’m drinking Luella’s milk [*], I’m eating Little Red Hen’s bread [**]… And when I eat chicken, do I eat Little Red Hen?

We’ve been talking about the food chain a lot lately, ever since Amie watched the movie Madagascar, which is a wonderful spoof on the food chain, with a tongue-in-cheek ending (”The kittie loves the fishies!”). Amie was enthralled by the fact that the lion would want to eat his friend the zebra (”steak!”). When she set up her zoo, she made sure to put the meat-eating animals separate from the vegetarians - which prompted some research on my part: does a hippo eat meat? [***]

We were at Drumlin Farm over the weekend - a lovely day, the sky heavy with snow (photo above, of their barn), only two other families there. On our way in, she told the lady at the gate:

- I don’t want to see the fox because he will eat me!

We explained that that would not happen, first by the following lame explanation:

- You’re much too big to eat!

Like that stops us humans from eating cows, for instance! We quickly asked what foxes do eat, then. There are a lot of foxes in children’s books, of course, so she knew:

- Chickens and eggs!

Then she asked:

- What eats me?

- Oh, no one, honey. We’re the top of the food chain, no ones going to eat you.

The quip solicited a frown of interest.

When we visited the pig sty, there was only one big hog left.

She asked:

- Where did all the piggies go?

Why disguise the fact?

- They were probably eaten.

- Oh. [tone: a surprised why not?] What do sheep eat?

- Grass and hay.

- We shouldn’t let the lion come on the farm! He will eat the sheep and the chickens!

Upon leaving we bought some of the Farm’s delicious sausages. Amie wanted to eat them right away (she gets those meat-loving genes from her Baba). I decided to ask her:

- You do know what those sausages are made of, right?

She knew right away:

- The piggies!

- Do you still want to eat the sausages?

- Yes!… What were the piggies names? [Note the past tense there!]

- I don’t know, honey.

I remember one evening when my family on my dad’s side (all white-collar people, not a farmer in sight) gathered for dinner. My cousin, then about 7 years old, had just lost her pet rabbit, Nijntje. My grandmother had told everyone to keep quiet about the fact that we were having rabbit stew (a delicacy in Belgium). When my cousin asked, “What is this?”, someone (one of the adults) blurted out what was on the tip of everybody’s tongue: “Nijntje!” The drama and trauma!

Why should that have been? Was it because my cousin wasn’t (yet) aware of the fact that meat = animals? Or was it because this meat was suddenly identified as her pet: Nijntje?

Hopefully we will, one day, have at least some chickens (I’m already lobbying for a goat, but the going is tough!). Then we’ll just have to look the animals right in the face, as we feed it, pet it, kill it.

That’s my girl. While gathering eggs she saw a stack of brochures and cried out:

- I need a book!

And what a coincidence: Rebecca at Irish Sally Gardens has an entry on killing their pigs for meat.

[*] Lovely Luella the magic cow from Kiss the Cow

[**] The little hen who sows the seed and harvests the wheat etc. while the Rat, the Cat and the Dog lazy around

[***] No, they’re herbivores

The scones that Amie and Mama made this morning at 6 am. In the background some of the silver dinnerware Amie received as gifts from her family in India. While she was patting down the batter, she said “I’m a big girl. I’m doing a good job. I’m a good Mama”. I immediately forgave the mess of butter and flour.

Painting at 6 pm. We have phased out the plastics for food consumption, but those IKEA cups still do great service as paint containers. When we’re done, I simply stretch plastic wrap over them and seal them with a rubber band. Works like a charm.

In between we must have read at least 20 books, many of them twice, and took one nap, way too early in the day. We didn’t venture outside because Amie caught a cold. Hopefully we’ve contained it so we can visit Sinterklaas tomorrow.

She has been saying she wants to go. She will sit on Sinterklaas’ lap and tell him she’s been a good girl. I know what he will say (what I’ve instructed him to say): “You should eat your vegetables, tough”. Well, it’s worth a try! It will also be a great opportunity to catch up with our friends from Belgium.

Enjoy our Sundays, everyone!

I got weed juice seemingly permanently rubbed into my fingers, dirt under my fingernails, my first case of “hoe-neck,” scratches all over my arm from the squash plants, a little back ache, a mild sunburn… When I proudly mentioned this litany to my friend, she said:

- “Honey! You’re a gardener now.”

I raised my hand to stop her and said, as seriously as I’ve ever said anything in my life:

- “Correction: I’m a farmer now.”

Then we laughed, of course.

I’m not a farmer yet, by a long shot (or even a gardener), but I have made a beginning. Volunteering at a farm - offering physical labor for experience - was a longstanding plan of mine, and after some paperwork and a couple of interviews, it finally came together. I am now an agricultural volunteer at Drumlin Farm in lovely Lincoln, Massachusetts! In fact, I have been so for over a month, though I’ve only been able to spend about 15 hours.

• Nothing but hands and hard work

On the forms and during the interviews, I was repeatedly asked what I could contribute to the farm. I was always honest: nothing but the strength of my body. I made it clear that I have no special skills, no experience, no expertise, and very little book knowledge. 

But, I said, I have these great tools: my hands. And enthusiasm, curiosity and no problem with hard physical labor.

That was, apparently, sufficient. And it was great, showing up on the first day and having nothing expected of me other than hard work.

• My farming so far

I saved the cosmos (flower), from the purslane (and lamented the fate of said purslane, as it is chock-full of omega-3s and we just threw it on the compost pile) , I weeded and hoed the carrot, cauliflower, brussels sprouts, broccoli and squash fields. I also trellissed tomatoes. The work is simple, hard, hot and repetitive, and I don’t mind it at all.

• Lonely work

It’s also lonely, as I come at times when most workers have left for the farmstand at the Farmer’s Market. One of the apprentices apologized for leaving me alone in the fields, with no one to talk to, and another suggested I come on Sundays, when the members of their CSA come in and there are more people and opportunities to chat.

But I like the loneliness of it, the intense concentration on the plants, and once in a while standing up and being surprised by how suddenly the sky changed.

• Learning

To be honest I haven’t learned much by way of “farm facts”, not much of the whys and wherefors of decisions and actions. I just do what the crop’s manager asks. I should be more assertive in asking questions, which the apprentices and crop’s manager  would gladly answer. I’ll slowly start doing that, as more opportunities arise. For now, I’m just there, in the moment.

I have gained experience, most importantly of my feeling of responsibility for the crops. I get to take some at the end of the day, so the carrot I save from the weed may be mine to take home in a week or two. But I am also repsonsible in a more general way. That is what I am there to do: to relearn the skills of growing food, which I have come to think of as a responsibility we all have.

I’m taking it easy. I want to feel at home on the farm first, before I start learning for serious.

It’s the end of One Local Summer, the 10-week Eat local challenge put out there by Liz at Pocket Farm and answered by many. I am thinking of taking the September 2007 Eat Local Challenge too. I hould hurry: it’s September already!

• Last meal

Our last OLS meal was spaghetti bolognese, with only the organic, whole wheat pasta and the salt and pepper non-local. All the other ingredients were from the Farmer’s Market or Drumlin Farm, none of which are more than 100 miles away (tomatoes, red and green bell peppers, carrots, onions, garlic - lots! - squash, ground beef) and my herb garden at 0 miles (rosemary, thyme, oregano).

No photographs, though! It was a big pot, but we had friends over for dinner and then we enjoyed it for another lunch and dinner, and then, then it was all gone! And I had forgotten to snap a picture…

I want to mention one very special thing, though, about this pasta sauce: Amie ate it! Granted, she ate the beefy chunks, but she didn’t mind (so much) a piece of carrot or pepper sticking to it. Must make it again, even more of it, and freeze it.

• Local eating all summer round

Almost as soon as we took it on, the OLS challenge changed our entire week’s food habits, not just for the one agreed upon meal.

Yesterday at dinner at a friends’ place, we had avocado in our salads. It was such an intense, exceptional experience. As I voiced this to our hosts, I realized that since we took the OLS challenge, we haven’t had any of the impossible-to-be-local fare that we used to eat: avocado, banana, kiwi, oranges… And we hadn’t missed them!

I think we could keep on doing this for September, and I want to make a go of it into October, but I’m afraid we won’t be able to keep it up much longer after that. Living in a small space, with a little top-of-the-fridge freezer, I wasn’t able to preserve or freeze any of the local summer food.

I’m curious to see when the turning point comes, who will notice first…

• Oh Potato!

There were potatoes at the Farmer’s Market this week, at just one of the dozen Farm stands but I got to them before they sold out. M-mm!

So we had, all grilled (on charcoal grill) by DH:

1. potatoes from Middle Earth Farm from Amesbury, Mass (50 miles as the truck drives)
2. summer squash and zucchini from Enterprise Farm, in Whately, Mass (111 miles, as the truck drives - less than 100 miles as the crow flies)
3. NY sirloin from River Rock Farm in Brimfield, MA (63 miles)
4. salt, pepper, olive oil: not local

• Oh Peaches!

The Farmer’s Market also featured two buckets of peaches. Two! I didn’t show up half an hour before “the bell” for nothing!

I never buy the organic blueberries - they’re too pricey - but Kimball’s Fruit Farm is a Low Pesticide Spray farm.

So dessert was:

1. peaches from Dick’s Market Garden in Lunenburg, Mass (50.9 miles as their truck drives)
2. blueberries from the Kimball Fruit Farm in Pepperell, Mass (47 miles)

• Attentive eating

I don’t think I’ve ever eaten better in my life. “Better” in the sense of healthier and tastier, but also in the sense of “with more taste,” on my part, that is. I mean, I eat with more attention and appreciation. The potatoes and the peaches were so special because I have been doing without for so long.

Thanks, Liz, for this initiative! Without One Local Summer I never would have appreciated the exceptional quality of local food in season!

Yesterday it was just Amie and I - DH was out, playing a softball game. So dinner had to be cooked fast and easy. What I came up with was tasty and creamy, healthy and local, and ready in 15 minutes. So I thought you might want me to share the recipe.

• You need

1. 1 small onion, chopped
2. one bunch of red chard, shredded
3. 1 summer squash, chopped
4. six or seven button mushrooms, chopped
5. 6 small eggs, beaten
6. little bit of cold milk (optional)

• Instructions

1. wash, shred and steam the chard in steamer or microwave, remove and chop up further (to bitesize)
2. in skillet, on medium to high heat, sautee onion in oil
3. add salt, pepper and nutmeg (the only non-local ingredients)
4. after a minute add squash
5. add mushrooms and steamed chard last - keep the juice from the chard and put it in the freezer to cool down fast
6. sautee all on medium to high heat until onion is just a little bit burnt, squash cubes are browned by still crunchy, and mushrooms are only just cooked through and are starting to release their juices, remove from heat
7. beat eggs in large bowl
8. add sauteed veggies to the eggs in the bowl (not the other way around!), stir until all is coated with egg (egg will already cook a bit)
9. put some more oil in the skillet and reheat briefly on medium heat
10. pour the egg-veggie mix into the skillet
11. scramble until the eggs is just cooked enough. Immediately stir in the cold milk or the cooled chard juice and move out of the pan onto a plate (this will stop the eggs from cooking further and hardening)
12. Enjoy with a piece of bread or some rice.

I just published a review of Najmieh Batmanglij’s wonderful cookbook, Silk Road Cooking. A Vegetarian Journey on Suite101.com. You can read it here.

It did occur to me that the Silk Road and many of the other ancient trade routes that Batmanglij travels in this book are about as non-local as you can get! How does this fit with One Local Summer, for instance?

Well, I’ve found that most of the ingredients used in the recipes are grown locally: eggs, spinach, cauliflower, squash, honey, apples… Even many of the spices are or can be grown here (saffron might be a problem). The only major trouble is the rice.

So - surprise! - you don’t need to live in Turkey, Iran, India or China to enjoy these recipes locally! This is a relief to me, because I adore this book, for all the reasons elaborated in the review.