First real harvest day of 2011

Of course, we've been eating out of the garden for over a month now - lots of kale, chard, salad mix, peas, and carrots (if you need 101 ways to use kale, I am your gal). But, with the arrival of a UPS truck bearing a Foodsaver imminent this afternoon, today is the day when a whole row of kale and a whole row of chard get harvested, blanched, and frozen for meals for the rest of the year, and the ground they leave behind gets prepped for Round 2.


Two kinds of crunchy carrots are yummy as snacks and will liven up our soups and sauces for months to come.

Even though the battle with the weeds is never-ending, this August feels like success, not failure. We are by-passing the produce section of Thriftway, selling a little goodness to our neighbors, and looking forward to successional harvests as spring and summer crops give way to fall and winter.

When we transplanted these tiny needles of onions from the greenhouse into the garden 2 months ago, I was sure we were wasting our time. They were microscopic and immediately flopped over into a death pose. Today - they sure stir-fry up great!

It does really take a village - at least a husband who weeds, a son who weed-whacks, and Tiffany the awesome farmhand, shown here pausing among the pumpkin plants to check in with the outside world.

Obsessing on bread

At the risk of being labeled maniacal in this regard, I just have to revisit the bread conversation.

Here's the deal: Truly great bread is the foundation of many wonderful things (not to mention, civilizations). Yummy snax, excellent accompaniment to salad, soup, or even pasta. Truly wonderful bread - the kind you buy at the bakery or the specialty grocer, with a floury crusty crust and a deep earthy smell, this bread means something to you. In general, it means between $5 and $7 to you.

So, to finally - after literally nearly 20 years of trial and error - find a method to make this kind of bread, daily, in our home is nothing short of miraculous. And it takes almost no effort, no time. We've been doing this for about a month now and we still get excited each loaf! We can't help ourselves - "look! how beautiful is that?!" is our general reaction. We've made the basic loaf, the European peasant loaf, the Olive Oil loaf, and none have been short of spectacular.

And, it makes amazing pizza dough - a huge discovery for our family. I like to pile all sorts and sundry healthy veggies on a foundation of thin crust and call it "pizza" b/c I know anyone is more likely to enjoy it that way. We had Kale, bacon, and green onion pizza the other night and it was amazing. (recipe will follow tomorrow, along with others)

Like most things home or farm-based, it makes me wonder why it isn't more widespread. Wow, this is so easy and the results are so fabulous, why isn't just about everyone just making their own bread? Why isn't "Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day" at the top of the NYT bestseller list?

Coming together over homemade anything is a good thing. Making bread together can only join your family. Have fun.

Bon Appetit-

-d

Two steps forward, one back

I did something today I haven't done in probably two years - and thought, quite honestly, that I'd never have to do again. I bought eggs at the supermarket. Brand-name eggs from a poultry operation that isn't local, but does claim to be humane and organic. I know these labels are treated vaguely in the law, totally unenforced, are manipulated by an open door at one end of the standard long hen prison, a patch of grass - are, at the end of the day, just this side of meaningless.

But, I needed eggs. Or, more precisely, I wanted eggs. And my hens are 100% on strike until it warms up. Most of them won't even venture out of their now extremely ripe coop. They peep and chirp and squeal; they fly in my face and try to dive into the giant trash can where their feed is stored. They hate the feel of snow on their feet, are pretty much coming to hate each other and are just all-around cranky as hell and not one bit interested in sharing anything of any value, like an egg.

So, I stood in front of the egg case, which of course, this being our beloved Thriftway, means in front of 25 different egg selections. And most people must surely behold this refrigerated shrine to Choice a wondrous or at least precious thing. But, I was just sad. I have plenty of projects under construction and even more abandoned or yet-started dreams, but eggs are my success story. Our farm offers up the best, very best, eggs there are. So buying eggs is a special kind of failure for me. Because I know that it's not just me buying eggs - by the time I buy eggs, there's a lot of other folks in the neighborhood who've been walking and driving by...and seeing none, go to the store and buy eggs. That makes me sad.

Sometimes I wish I had a driveway sign for all these nuanced occasions. Today, it would say "We'll be back!"

On the other hand, just three years, one day, and 8 hours after we moved in, we (Mark) are (is) putting the handles on our kitchen cabinets! It would be frankly tough to overstate the thrill of this occasion. Handles, schmandles you might be saying, but these particular handles were chosen through tortuous decision-making nearly four years ago, have taken up exquisitely-precious shelf and drawer space, and, truly, are the jewelry that sparkle up a kitchen. Not to mention that they also make opening drawers and doors easier. I am not giddy on this front yet, however, because we could only get through about 60% today...and anyone with a home knows the danger this portends.

And, in the midst of this unprecedented winter chill, another small victory. I may have bought eggs today, but I did not buy lemons. At last, my spidery lemon tree has kicked into gear for real, offering up luscious sweet Meyer lemons and throwing a show of flowers so thick and brilliant, I can finally hope for my own supply of winter citrus, ready for the picking whenever food or drink commands.

Two steps forward, one step back.