growing curious

the garden still gives...

It's the middle of January, after many light frosts, and snow threatens this weekend.  And here is what I plucked from the garden this morning:

Pounds of broccoli and mustard raab, their tender sweet leaves, and lacinato kale.  Some of these plants we've been eating from for more than a year because they were planted in Fall of 2010.  Some of these delicious flower buds came from volunteer mustard plants.

I feel so grateful for this bounty.  I'll sautee some of it with carrots D harvested last week.

and delirious over...

I meant to add that I'm delirious over the radish greens and various brassica raabs we've been eating here.  I made a simple pesto with any green or flower I could find in the garden with a lot of garlic, lemon, and a bit of olive oil.  I've been eating it at every opportunity.  radish greens are our friends.

on to something...

There have been hundreds of frustrations.  My friend P calls the disintegration of the landscaping out front as a "start-up cost."  The shower has needed cleaning for a long time, and D is learning to cook, but...

I am happy.

I have worked 12 - 16 hours every day for more than three months (except for three days during that time when I just felt too broken to continue).    I have pages and pages of to-do lists that eventually get checked off.  D has been a saint in helping me with his clear thinking and engineering background.

This is working.  Sort of.  I mean...  there are customers, and they come back for more.  And they are nice, and it's fun to talk to them, and by the end of a Saturday, I feel exhausted and hopeful.

Mostly, though, I'm thinking right now about the hard production end of this experiment.

So far, I have worked through almost 1000 pounds of produce in order to create my products.  Most of that is fermenting right now because customers have been frustrated with me for selling out so I've been trying to increase production.

But 1000 pounds of produce...  I have worked through that since March, when I was accepted into the Beaverton Farmers Market.  I am so tired.  The sauerkraut takes two months to ferment, and the kimchi takes two weeks.  Those fermentation times complicate production right now because everything is new, and I have no idea what people will like.

But I am happy.  As much as I dread making a 30 pound batch of sauerkraut when my feet hurt and there are a hundred other things to do, I love the cabbage.  It makes me happy.  I cut pieces of the cabbage and think, "Wow...  that there is going to crunch just right." 

The vegetables *still* make me happy.  They recharge me.  I still love doing this even though I recognize I need more breaks and rest.  I love celebrating the vegetables in this way.

yay!

I have been holding my breath since the beginning of January.  Ahhh...  finally exhaling...

I found out this weekend that Curious Farm will be at the Beaverton Farmers Market this year.  This is the largest all-agricultural market in the state, and it receives 15,000 - 20,000 visitors every week -- from May through October.

At my booth I will sell old-fashioned brined pickles (in season only), live sauerkrauts (yes, plural...), sauerruben, seasonal kimchi, beet kvass, and an ever-changing assortment of vinegar-brined pickles like rosemary green beans, delicate Japanese pickled turnips, pickled snow peas, giardiniera, juniper-infused pickled onions, Indian-spiced carrots.  I also will bring a limited array of just-picked specialty vegetables and herbs from our farm.

What makes my booth unusual is that I'll be selling the pickled items by the pound/pint/quart so that people feel freedom to experiment.  Many people have never tasted real, live-cultured sauerkraut, for instance, and might hestitate to buy a 32 oz jar of it.  Also, many people fear they won't like kimchi but come to crave it after trying it. 

My offerings will change weekly -- guided by the seasons and what's fresh right now from my farm and other local farms.  I'll grow as much of the produce I use in the pickles as possible, and I'll source additional ingredients from other smart organic, sustainably-minded farmers in the area.

I am a pickle anthropologist and evangelist.  I want the Curious Farm booth to be a resource for people in the area to learn about pickling techniques from all over the world.  I also want to provide probiotic-rich, health-giving, live-cultured pickles to the community because the real stuff is hard to find.  

I'm excited.  I'm overwhelmed.  I can't wait!  I'm nervous.  I hope people like my pickles.

 

 

beautiful squash

 
This is my child.  She is almost 6.

This is the big blue hubbard squash we grew.  We opened it today.

If you grow winter squash, cutting into one of the pretty ones brings on big feelings about the energy that went into growing such a masterpiece.  You want to cut it properly, make use of every little bit, and celebrate its life by cooking it properly.

This blue hubbard squash has thick walls of flesh between 1.5 - 4 inches wide. I baked half of it today, under a foil tent with water in the pan to create some steam, with just salt and pepper sprinkled on top.  It has the sweetness of a sugar pie pumpkin, but it has the body and depth of a really good acorn squash.  I love it.

And now the squash are gone. 

I will save seeds from the other half and grow more next year.  I really love how the celedon blue/green color of this squash contrasts with the leaves of the plant in the muddle of late summer.  I think it's the best squash I've ever eaten.

the garden keeps giving...

 
Mother Earth, I am blessed.  Here it is almost November and our vines have delivered another 18 pounds of perfect pickling cucumbers.  This batch of pickles may be the last for the year, and then I will decide if I want to import from California to make batches of pickles during the next couple of months.

Here is a photo of our vines, taken today during a break in the storm:

You can see that the vines still look pretty lively for this late in the season.  This is one of our new beds that gets southern exposure and heat radiated from the house on the north side.  It's such a sweet, productive spot, and we'll be planting winter crops in these beds soon, too.

And that's probably why the hens have gathered nearby here this afternoon to soak up the sheltered sun.  There's been no sign of molting yet, and they're still laying well. (especially since we discovered that they were laying eggs in the tomato bed and so have changed their ranging schedule to encourage use of the nest boxes.  ahem.) 

I am just beginning to recover from my illness.  Today I have done more than any day since 10/8.   I had to force myself out to pick the cucumbers, and I'm taking a break now before I put them into crocks because I'm tired.

But it was great to be out in the garden.  I'm just stunned by all that's still growing out there.  I haven't planted the garlic yet (hopefully will do that this week when E is in school), but there are carrots, beans, pretty summer squashes, chili peppers, eggplants, parsley, winter squashes, onions, leeks, chard and broccoli.  All of this is from plantings we did in the spring and early summer.  We haven't had "farm hours" here at Curious Farm in a month or so, but I'll send email to a couple of customers to let them know about crops I know they enjoy.

Now I just need to get my energy back so that I can plant the garlic and winter crops.  We have never had such bounty here, and I can't wait to see what we're able to grow next year.

 

surprise in the garden

Look what was growing underneath the tired cosmos!  Small, sweet, worthy carrots. 

reason #439 to grow your own vegetables

 
This pesto looks good, doesn't it?  It's very lush and green.  In the bowl here are basil leaves, basil flowers, olive oil, garlic, lemon juice, pepper and salt.  I added the cheese to our noodles at dinner, thinking there might be some of this left to freeze afterwards (wrong).

Listen, though...  when you grow your own basil, you can use the basil flowers in your pesto.  They have heightened aroma and flavor, and -- as long as you use them fresh-picked -- they create super-charged pesto.  If you refrigerate them or let them linger on your counter, they turn bitter, and that is why you don't see basil flowers in the grocery store.

Did you know this?  Now there is no need to cry when your basil flowers!  Pluck the beauties and some lower leaves and use all of their potent energy.  If they're calling out to bees, those bits of basil will make otherworldy pesto.

Tonight's pesto was very good, but I made better pesto for myself on Thursday morning when I was exhausted/sad/overwhelmed and decided to spend the morning in bed.  After I got D and E off to school (both of them on Thursday!), I forced myself out into the garden to harvest some basil. (You know how it's hard to fix yourself something wonderful when you're feeling depressed?  It was one of those days.)

I used ground almonds instead of cheese, lots of basil, lots of garlic, lots of lemon juice and then cayenne instead of black pepper.  D and E would have hated this, but I loved every bit of it.  If you need comfort and medicine some day, make your pesto this way, and you will feel glad.

beet relish

I've done kraut, kvass, kimchi, but I've never done a fermented beet relish until now.  Wow!  It turned out. 

Besides the beets and carrots (both from the garden!), I decided to take a break from my usual spicy-hot additions and used caraway, dill, black pepper, and a little ginger this time.   It tastes rooty, pleasantly sour, and very alive.  I want to put it on a cheese sandwich on rye bread. Instead, I ate some of it plain for breakfast.

taking stock

Fiona over at the Cottage Smallholder posted a lovely reflection on her last year of healing.  She's had to reorganize her life entirely, do more with less, and figure out new ways to support herself.  I hope you'll visit her blog and get to know her.

I draw great strength from Fiona's journey because -- even though our circumstances are different and we live half a world apart -- our priorities and solutions are similar.  I especially appreciate that she can see that she's living a deeper, more satisfying life now that everything has been pared down to essentials.

That is true for me, also.  I really love getting to know my husband now that he's free of the evil empire.  I'll gladly face storms of financial, geographic, and professional uncertainty to watch him settle into himself.  I appreciate having a clearer idea of who our real friends are.  I'm grateful that we're getting so grounded that we're literally dirty from our work on the Farm.

The Farm...

I've been in a funk about the farm.  I work so hard out there but can't see appreciate our progress so this weekend, much like Fiona, I've been trying to acknowledge the deeper progress we've made in these last six months:

• We came up with the plan for the farm in January.
• We built the farm's website in January.
• We re-organized our entire garden into mounded, raised beds.
• We ordered seeds and planned crops differently than we ever have before.
• David designed and built the coop.
• We got the chickens and learned to care for them.
• Our garden grew.
• We dealt with the record-breaking cold and wet spring.
• I've kept up with the weeding.
• We sold a few vegetables. (thank you!)
• Pickling classes are coming up later this summer.  (There's room for you, too!  Contact me.) 
• First eggs are due any day now, and we have customers waiting for them already. 
• We're meeting a lot of wonderful neighbors.
• I'm figuring out how to license the kitchen so that I can make and sell preserves and pickles legally.
• I am making unusual pickles and preserves and learning a lot in that realm.
• We are feeding ourselves from the garden. (At the grocery store, I skip the produce section 90% of the time -- mostly just buy mushrooms or a few lemons sometimes.)

That is an awful lot in six months. 

I know from my experience with this garden over this last few years that we'll see rewards two- or three-fold next year.  We won't have to truck in compost anymore.  The beds are organized well enough now that rotation will be easier and weeding reduced.  I've learned so much about succession planting and yields this year that next year I'll have a better idea of how to market crops in advance.

I need to be patient.  A year from now, we'll face different challenges, but it will feel easier (hopefully) to sell what we grow.

Not small potatoes for six months of hard work.  Even I can see that.

beet kvass

I really like the first batch of beet kvass.  What's most interesting to me is how the flavor keeps developing in the fridge, after its room-temperature fermentation.  My pickles and kimchi retain their flavor, oomph, and cruchiness in the fridge, but the kvass keeps getting better.  I like it more and more each day.

I used one of the Harsch crocks to ferment this batch, but I'm understanding how unnecessary that might have been considering the kvass only ferments on the kitchen counter for 3 - 7 days.  As most people do, I'm sure it's easy to make it in a canning jar and just crack the lid a couple of times to allow gas to escape.

I'm not Sally Fallon .  Here is my recipe:

Cathy's Beet Kvass (made with Harsch crock)

• 3 beets, left unpeeled and cubed (no need to be pretty, but the beets shouldn't be shredded, or they will ferment too quickly and get icky)
• 1/4 cup whey, strained from plain yogurt
• 1/4 teaspoon salt (way, way less than most recipes call for, and it could have been that the Harsch crock allowed me to use so little salt because no air from the outside was able to enter the kvass while it fermented. I don't know if this is true, but I do know that I was happy to have the kvass turn out wonderful with much less salt.)
• 3 thick slices of fresh ginger root
• enough filtered water (to fill the jar or just enough considering the ratio of beets to the size of your container)

For the quantities in this recipe, many people would use a half-gallon canning jar.  Fill the jar with the cubed beets, whey (strain some plain yogurt you like in cheesecloth or a strainer over a bowl, and the whey will collect in the bowl), salt, ginger, and water.

If using Harsch crock, do the above, place the weights on top of the beets, seal the crock properly so that gasses escape on their own.

If using a canning jar, put a lid on it but release the lid a couple of times during fermentation so that gasses escape.

Ferment on the kitchen counter for 3 - 7 days (my first batch went five days).  Strain and refrigerate the liquid.  Drink some every day.  Start your next batch.

best pickled beets

You know how some cookbooks give a recipe you consider worth the price of the whole book?  I feel that way about the recipe for Pickled Beets with Red Wine in Linda Ziedrich's The Joy of Pickling.   It is so good -- earthy, not too sweet, smooth, deep, not harsh.  She calls for red wine vinegar, and it makes a big difference in this recipe.  This recipe for Pickled Beets with Red Wine, published in 2008 in The Washington Post, was adapted from Ziedrich's recipe.  I'm sure star anise would be a great addition.  I adapt Ziedrich's recipe, too.  I use less sugar, more ginger, and allspice instead of cloves.

I made a second batch last night.  Some friends found out about my first batch, and the jars have been leaving my pantry sooner than I expected so I needed to replenish my supply.  Pretty much, I can't imagine using another recipe ever again.  These are the very best pickled beets I've ever tasted.  (And, Stephanie, the jar I gave you earlier in the year was not made from this recipe.  You must try this one.) 

Life has been very beet-y around here. The kvass turned out.  Peeling twelve pounds of beets yesterday for the pickles gave me renewed appreciation for their mineraly-goodness. (and the cracks in my hand are still stained...)  It's Autumn...  good time for beets.
 

what's gonna get cooked?

The earth giveth.

E and I went with our friend J to glean some tomatillos from a field leased by a friend of hers on Sauvie Island.  I didn't think tomatillos could grow well here at all, and I have never, ever seen such loaded pepper plants.

The backstory on this leftover harvest is heartbreaking to me, but I wanted to honor what the earth gives in a clear way -- by using it carefully and/or paying for it carefully.  Thankfully, I brought money with me just in case we met up with the tenant, and we did meet up with a relative of his who said she would see him later today.  I gave her $25.  It wasn't enough, but it was all I had.

I've weighed parts of this haul, and I think I came away with 10 - 12 pounds of tomatillos, 8 pounds of jalapenos, and 4 pounds of serranos. 

While there, I also found a few roma tomatoes that hadn't decayed (the rest of the tomatoes in the photo are from our vines).  Two weeks ago, that field would have been full of useable romas, too.  It broke my heart to reach toward each tomato to find that it was rotten on the other side. (Hard year for tomatoes here because of the weather, but these tomatoes would have been okay a couple of weeks ago.)

We stopped into Kruger's to get more cukes when we were out there.  The last bag I got from them turned into such fantastic pickles, that I was greedy for more.

Those cukes went into one of these holy fermenting vessels.  I got another Harsch crock!  Two!  Don't they look lovely?  See that French rolling pin there in front?  That is my new kraut packer.  Do you have a kraut/kimchi packer?  Well, I do...  tra-la-la.  It works great because it is so long and allows me (short, fat lady) such leverage.

Right now, one crock is becoming perfect garlic-dills, and the other is becoming perfect late-summer kimchi.

But back to the photo up top...  time to make salsa, yes?  Can you believe that girl?  She picked a lot of those tomatillos and peppers, too.

about zucchini...

My zucchini casserole worked so well that D didn't know he had eaten zucchini until he read about it here.  So I am making two more to freeze and then will be done with the big zucchini monsters.  Taylor left a comment with agreat idea for using zucchini, and I will try that the next time I have more than I can steam.

I know I should post a recipe for the casserole, but I feel stupid about doing that because my measurements are in heaps and gobs tonight.  Maybe if I sleep on it all, I'll have better portions to suggest tomorrow.

in the kitchen

There's a lot to do out in the garden, but I am in the kitchen today -- finding creative uses for the monster zucchini that grew while we were on our trip.

So far, I've made two loaves of whole-wheat zucchini/carrot/apple bread.  They just came out of the oven and smell delicious.  I'm making a zucchini casserole/crustless quiche, too, and if this turns out, I'll make another with peppers, tomatoes and corn.

When D came up and heard what I was doing, he wasn't overly excited about the idea of zucchini casserole.  I understand, but it's important to me that we use what the garden gives us.  We've done pretty good so far this year.  I'm proud of us.  Hopefully, the sweet zucchini bread will make him happy. 

carrots and onions

the garden giveth...

...and I am very grateful, even though it is not fun to wash and process that much kale all at once.

I separated the bug-free kale from the icky and then put it in the sink for a second sort and a first clean.  I saved the kale ribs and washed them again, and now they're bubbling away and giving their good energy to a vegetable stock.  Those two bowls of de-stemmed kale in the picture above will go through two more washings before I make kale pesto (a la Farmer John's Cookbook, which is so helpful when one needs to make smart use of a vegetable bounty).

E just came inside and was talking to me about all sorts of things for ten minutes before I asked her directly, "Why did you come inside even though Daddy is still outside?"

"Oh, I came in to ask you for two bags so that Daddy can put the onions in them!"

"Well, that's very important, and I'm glad I asked you because he needs those right away if he's pulling all the onions!  Take these to him right now!  Thanks for being such a big help, E!  He will be glad for these bags."

So if all goes well, there will be a picture here soon of a bunch of dirty onions and maybe some carrots!  Gotta make carrot cake for Grandma P's birthday on Tuesday!

raab

I used to watch my brassicas (kale and arugulas mostly) make flowers and feel doom in my heart...  the end was near...  poor me...  no more kale or arugula soon... 

This is a photo of my kale patch taken a couple of days ago.  You can imagine my sorrow when it succombs to the heat and increased light, yes?  My kale patch is glorious.

But now I eat those flower buds and keep my kale patch happier and healthier longer.  I also keep myself happier and healthy, too. 

You've heard of rapini and broccoli raab, yes?  Raab comes in the spring, from over-wintered brassica varieties.  The raab is the flower buds that look like tiny broccoli heads -- hence the classic "broccoli raab" that grows from mustard greens (also in the brassica family) and not from a genuine broccoli plant.  You can have kale raab, turnip raab, arugula raab, mustard raab, collard raab, and many traditional Asian greens that feature the flower bud. They're all good.

Fresh-picked raab is sweet.  Before writing this post, I consulted every vegetable-loving cookbook in my large library, and all of them talked about how bitter raab can be and how necessary it is to cook it well.

Pardon me for disagreeing with famous chefs, but I suspect the issue with raab is that it is best fresh from the garden -- like corn.  Perhaps the longer it takes to get from farm to kitchen, the more in need of cooking it is.  I'm delighted to eat it raw because raab is amazingly tender and sweet.

Think:  the little kale, turnip, mustard, and arugula plants have spent early spring growing leaves and soaking in the sun, and they're ready to attract bees and other beneficial insects.  They put all their sweetest, freshest energy into those tender flower stalks and buds.  They're "springy," porous, tender, sweet, bright.  So little effort is needed to chew them because they're perfect little flowers ready to bloom.

You can do as I do and just stand in your garden, picking and eating kale flower buds like a cow, or you could pick them and run inside to your kitchen that's ready with a warm skillet and a cutting board full of chopped garlic.  Turn the skillet on high, throw in the raab and some garlic, a little salt, lots of  pepper, a splash of lemon juice or favorite vinegar, and then spoon the greens onto plates or bowls.  5 minutes from garden to plate.

You want your own raab.  You do.  Try growing your own kale! 

We live in Oregon (zone 8 and had a lot of snow last year and some bitter cold), and I plant kale and arugula seeds in the fall and then leave them.  They start to come up in late fall and then die down when the cold gets bad.  Then they don't come up again until late February.  Then they get frozen and disintegrated by the next round of snow.  Then, in March when the light really does seem to last longer each day, they start growing, and you need to do nothing to these plants but eat their tender leaves frequently and sing them songs.  (E sings the ABC song to them pretty regularly.)

We have had great luck with the Wild Garden Kale Mix from wildgardenseed.com.

finally...

Behold:  brave little asparagus spears popping out of the ground.  I'm delirious!   What a difference a couple of days make...

And welcome to the newly redecorated blog.  Let me know if you encounter any huge problems.  I'm still working through some design and content issues.

I received considerable help in redesigning this space from Ernie, Bert, Caillou and Clifford.  Thanks, guys!  Thanks, PBS!  <wink> 

garden in the evening

This is a gorgeous moment of spring's energy in our garden.  That "lettuce" in the center may be lettuce or some sort of chicory from last year.  The parsley in the back is from last year, too.  The little leaves in front are from a young celery plant.

I went outside tonight to take the yard debris can to the street, but the garden called me.

I just stood out there, plucking the unopened flower buds from the kale, arugula, and mustard plants.  I pinched them off and popped them into my mouth.  Tender, sweet, and spicy.

Here are the peas, climbing happily.  I hope they continue to do well and that I feel like there's enough volume there for me to pick the pea shoots, too.  I sure love those -- sauteed ever so slightly or tossed with a warm dressing so that they just begin to soften.

But where is the asparagus?  Maybe it will come up next year instead.  Little parsley plants line the edge of the bed because I like parsley and have heard that asparagus likes it, too.

even more green tomatoes

How many more green tomatoes?  Another 30 pounds! 

It's hilarious.  It's heartbreaking.  My shoulders still are sore from all of the chopping I did the other week.

There must be some cosmic message in all of this...

more green tomatoes!

I know...  it's becoming a joke, but there truly are more green tomatoes out there in the garden.  See?  I left these vines growing because they were healthier and had more air circulation.  But these tomatoes still haven't begun to ripen.

I guess I'll make a proper jam this time -- no chutney.  My gosh, what am I going to do with all that chutney?

So...  ummm...  big inner changes happening here.  I'm pretty grumpy and discombobulated, trying to make new choices and feel more empowered in my life. 

My cousin will be dying soon.  My father is still ill and keeps going in and out of the hospital (which my brother and I don't hear about until after he's back and brushing his teeth at home).  And I'm still trying to dig myself out of the load of anger my brother dumped on me a couple of weeks ago.  His half-hearted apology ("You didn't deserve it.") doesn't erase the very mean things he said or the entire week I spent confused and sad about it all -- especially when he warns me that he may unload on me again like that (ummm... no, dear tortured brother, that's not okay with me).

I'm still trying to figure out what being a mom is all about.  When does she need all of me?  When is it okay to do some of my own stuff?  I still feel that the best way for me to restore my health and well-being is through art/creativity of some kind.  I keep making exploratory gestures in this realm, but I feel inner urgency to make it a priority.

To this end, I re-arranged the "Creating Room" again.  Remember when I came to the realization that I'd never get time to do my own stuff in my own space unless I figured out how to share the space intentionally with E?

Well, the Creating Room has been working out pretty well in some ways.  I mostly have stopped calling it "my office," and E and I do quite a bit in there -- for her.  This weekend I finally decided to bring more of my stuff -- another bookshelf, books, and some extra art supplies -- into the Creating Room. I don't know why rearranging things helps me so much.  I also feel comforted now to have Rumi, Lynda Barry, Ram Das, Clifford Geertz, and some delicious fairy tale books (mine!) close to me while I go through these mountains of grief and anger.  I've felt so lost lately.  It helps to see these books because they remind me of what matters to my heart.

Meanwhile, those green tomatoes are hanging out there on the fence, taunting me... 

58 pounds of green tomatoes

I guess I have a good eye...  here are 58 pounds of green tomatoes in good shape.  Five or ten pounds only made it as far as the compost pile.

So the issues are...

• What should I do with them?

• Should I just try every recipe that looks interesting because there certainly is enough of them?

• What do I have the energy for?  Seems like it would be nice to make a chutney or jam, some pickles, and a salsa.  That's a lot of work, and my energy has taken a serious nose-dive this weekend.

• If I pickle some, will they get mushy?  I would rather they stay kinda crunchy.

Come on, green tomato lovers, help me out here!

Do you see the white bowl filled with the green romas?  They came from one plant, and the huge tomatoes hung together on the vines like clusters of grapes.  I really wanted to taste these ripe, but not a single one ever made it.

I left four plants growing because they're in a different area that gets a lot of sun and air circulation.  The vines on those plants are still quite healthy so maybe some of those tomatoes will ripen.  (And that is a lesson on tomato placement for next year's garden.)

It was weird to harvest all of these and rip out the plants.  I have felt sad about the dumb tomato year.   My plants suffered from the weather as did many other tomato plants in this area.  Also, I got most of my plants from one nursery, and most of them suffered from some weird leaf curl thing that held back their growth during the last part of spring.  It took a long time for them to recover.

But I tried to keep my focus on the positive.  I'm grateful that I'm learning how to preserve things.  These tough beauties didn't grow in vain.  They will be enjoyed!  (Cynthia --ooops! --, only a pound or two seem as though they might ripen on the counter.  I'll try your trick.  Thanks!)