Archives for April 2009

How Does Your Garden Grow?

April 26, 2009

Cool pictures of the same stalk of asparagus taken on days one through four. (And yes, that stalk is also included in the bundle we’ll be eating tonight, pictured below!) Now that we finally got some rain, I think I could go out hourly and take similar pictures of the asparagus bed. In fact in the heart of the growing season, I often pick the asparagus two times in a single day! Tonight I am picking what is ready (about 10 spears) and making risotto with it.

Most seeds are planted: radish, kale, lettuce, cilantro, arugula, spinach, swiss chard, peas, sugar snaps, onion sets, seed potatoes, parsnips, beets. I need to buy carrot and corn seed and I won’t plant bean seeds for another couple weeks.

Raspberries are weeded and growing. Another garden item of note were the 5 little clumplettes of garlic that have been on one side of a planter box for about 3 years. (I can’t even remember their genesis.) Yet they come up every year, which is more than I can say for the garlic I plant in the fall… And, since I needed the room this year, I dug them up and found perfect little individual garlic plants. I didn’t have room to plant them all seperately, so I replanted one bunch in a better place, and saved the rest for eating with our risotto tonight. Hopefully the plantings will make up for the LAME hard necks that didn’t come up so well this year. (Softnecks didn’t disappoint.)

And, I am heading out soon to pick my first Rhubarb. The question is what to do with it: rhubarb cake, pie or crisp? (That question was quickly answered by Morgan, my daughter: crisp!) I am probably jumping the gun a bit, as the stalks are still pretty short, but it seems just fine.

Such a fun time of year. I never stop being amazed by all the green colors of spring. And with this rain, hopefully the morels will soon follow. Last year was horrible for morels in Minnesota, so I’m looking for a bumper crop.

Yikes! These Raspberries Need to be Weeded!

Ahhhh. Nirvana. But how long will it last?!

Green Garlic Dug, Separated and Replanted

Earth Week? Why Not Try Cast Iron Pans?

April 23, 2009

cast-iron No, I’m not some psycho chick who believes everything I read. But I do believe this: The FDA doesn’t take a stand on something unless they know it’s REALLY bad and even then, they downplay it. I mean, come on, how long did it take them to go public with the hazards of cigarettes? …Which leads me to the latest brouhaha over non-stick (teflon) pans. The idea is simple: they are “safe” if not “overheated” and as long as they are “intact” and “not peeling.”

Hmmm. How many of you are able to keep your teflon pans intact and not peeling? It’s so hard for me to keep them that way that I have come to think of them as disposable — only I’m too cheap to actually toss my old ones in the garbage! Instead, I give them to unsuspecting friends I want to kill!

So, rather than wipe out a portion of the population that actually likes me, I finally decided to rid our house entirely of non-stick so I wouldn’t be tempted to keep using them after their prime. The only acceptable non-stick alternative was the one that has been around for ages: cast iron. I know all the lazy-asses will whine, “They’re too heavy!” Or, “They rust.” And, “Everything sticks!” Yes, yes, and sometimes.

As usual, I thoroughly researched the best cast iron pans. (Everyone is reviewing them since they are back in vogue, so it was easy.) Most seemed to love the pre-seasoned Lodge brand. I bought a preseasoned Lodge griddle a few years ago and wasn’t all that impressed. It was almost rough to the touch. It has over time smoothed out, but it took longer than I expected. The very best cast iron pan I own was one I bought at an antique store ten+ years ago for something like $10. Expecting the price to have increased dramatically like everything else at antique stores during the past ten years, I slyly asked my parents for these pans for my last birthday. And, off to the antique store we went .

…It was the cheapest they have ever gotten off. I got all three in the picture above for less than $25. To tell you the truth, I couldn’t believe my parents didn’t supplement my gift with something else, like a Wacom Cintiq or something reasonable. Twenty five dollars? For your favorite child? Perhaps this year they are keeping tabs on my desire for a new DSLR and have big plans to surprise me with one to make up for such a lame gift last year. Yes. That must be the plan.

Once again, I digress; After I got them home, I cleaned the pans and re-seasoned them by heating them to oblivion and then wiping liberally with peanut oil a couple times. To clean, I use hot water as soon as I’m done cooking, maybe a quick once-over with a nylon scrubber, then whip it back on the burner to dry. I keep a paper towel that I use over and over that has olive oil on it in the drawer where I store them and just run it over the inside of the pan. When it’s cool I put it away. They are a worthy substitute for teflon, I swear.

So if that sounds like a giant pain in the ass to you, then go ahead and use teflon. They don’t call it natural selection for nothin’.

Jennie’s Got the Blues

April 20, 2009

sad Sometimes – not very often – I get sad for no particular reason. Today I am sad. I don’t want anyone to tell me why I have no reason to be sad. Yes, I live a great and blessed life. And 99% of my life I spend being grateful for that fact. So cut me some damned slack today. I’m wallowing.

If I were counting, I think I might have weeped over 15 times today. It began as I stared at my computer screen for what seems the millionth day in a row. I need to come up with a logo for a special project for my son’s school. A worthy volunteer project, yes indeed. I’m happy to do it. So why did it make me cry?

And then I read on twitter about the stupid agents getting their stupid Sony Webbie cams. And I cried about that. I’m so jealous. It’s not an emotion I have much experience with and I hate it. It’s ugly and insidious. I hate myself for harboring it and for not being able to move on.

And then, when I was trying to figure out what time to start the time-bake on the oven for the damn meatloaf that my damn husband requested that my damn kids won’t eat that I also won’t eat because I’ll be at damn bookclub, I cried because I couldn’t figure it out. I had to leave in 5 minutes to get Morgan at track. I had to find her damn guitar and her damn soccer stuff and make her some food to eat since she wouldn’t be home until after 7:30. I had to get Charlie ready to go with because he had to be across town at damn Jazz band at 5pm. Drop him then come back into Watertown to have Morgan at guitar at 5:30. Wait for her there and read more about the damn fiesta agents getting their damn cars while I wait. Weep some more. Then get Morgan to soccer at 6, then back across town to pick Charlie up at band, then home and off to bookclub at 6:30.

And really, isn’t that enough to make anyone weep?

I know what you’re thinking: Poor damned Jennie.

Sick of Hearing About Compost Yet?

April 18, 2009

I know, we’re all sick to death of hearing about compost. Even I, a dedicated composter, am beyond tired of the subject. But let me share a secret with you. It couldn’t be easier. At least the way I do it. Yes, of course when I STARTED composting, I did it like I do everything: with a gusto. I researched ad nauseum. Bought the “starter,” “activator,” “WHATEVER you call it.” I had a thermometer and a special composting bin! Oh baby, I was gonna make some mean compost.

And I did, but what a Pain In The ASS!

Now, as in so much of my life, I have streamlined. My current system, shown above, is a two-bin system, big enough to hold real garden and household refuse. Let me repeat that: BIG ENOUGH to hold REAL garden & household refuse. I see ads for those stupid little boxes or balls that you roll around and laugh. What a joke. Please, do yourself a favor and save your money. (Unless, of course, you are a 74 year old widow and only generate about 2 bags of garbage a month and live in an apartment-then that size should be fine). For anyone who actually has a yard and cooks, those little 3 x 3 jobs are way too small.

compost_closeup After figuring that out, I upgraded to a ComposTumbler that promised finished compost in a dramatically short amount of time. So EXCITING! And it was HUGE! Plenty big for real life. (And also expensive! But who cared! Think of the money I would save on fertilizer! Or so I told my husband…) The ComposTumbler actually did work. The only problem was, it required work on my part. In order to get that compost quick, I was required to crank the damn thing every single damn day. That worked for about 2 months. Then, as always, I got lazy. (For crying out loud, it’s compost! Do I really need the stress of laying in bed at 11pm and suddenly sitting bolt upright and exclaiming, “I forgot to crank the compost!” I’ll save that level of excitement for forgetting to lock up the chickens.)

So the two bin system it became. Over time I have perfected my approach, which I helpfully lay out for you here.

1) Fill it up

2) Forget it

3) Empty in the Spring

compost_ready That is simplified of course, but actually quite accurate. Assuming you are just starting a two bin system, you fill up one side over the course of the season and that winter. Stop adding in the Spring and begin using the empty side until next spring. You do nothing to the first side after it is full. If it is exceptionally dry, I might water it now and then. I might crawl on top of the heap and occasionally jump up and down to flatten it out. I don’t turn it, I don’t add anything else. Honestly. I just let nature take its course.

In the spring, the first bin that had been overflowing it’s boundaries and spilling over the top is reduced to an impossibly small amount. I fill up my garden cart — usually two times — spread it over my garden beds, eventually emptying the first bin completely.

Because my system is not a “hot” one, I do not add weeds that have gone to seed because the bins do not reach an internal temperature high enough to kill the seeds. This is the one thing I am fairly fanatic about. Given the amount of weeds that I battle day in and day out, year in and year out, I think you can cut me some slack on that one. I just keep a big pail with weeds and when it’s full, I either throw them into the garbage, or lob them into the marsh (where they probably take root, bloom and blow seeds into my garden anyway. So really, what’s the point?)

Where was I?

Compost Spread onto Garden Beds

Also, because I never turn the pile or do anything to it, and because I never chop the compost additions into small pieces that rot quicker (because that, too, is a giant pain in the ass), As I fill the garden cart with the finished compost, I hand-pull any sticks, gourd skins and occasional egg shells that have not completely decayed. These items I toss on top of the other bin. When I am done emptying the side I am working on, I will place those partially decayed sticks and twigs and refuse on the bottom of the just emptied bin, allowing much-needed air circulation at the bottom of the pile.

Then, I spread the compost all over my garden. It is the only fertilizer I ever use. Over time I have watched as my heavy clay soil has become practically perfect.

Except for the weeds and bugs, of course.

Spring Garden Clean-Up: The Battle Begins

April 11, 2009

Since this is my first official garden entry, I would like to make one thing clear: I am no feel-good gardener. I am a realist. I admit having evolved to my present mind-set, but I have evolved out of the need to survive, just like any other species.

My gardening endeavors are a battle against the odds: Against nature. Against varmits. Against weeds. Against the dogs. Against my chickens. Against wild turkeys. Against insects. You get the point. But let me illustrate it quickly with one short story.

No day in the garden is complete without Buzz, eagerly waiting for a rock to be throw, that he may fetch it. — No day in the garden is complete without Buzz, eagerly waiting for a rock to be thrown, that he may fetch it.

When I first started my garden, back in the days of my naiveté, one of the first things I planted was asparagus – that vegetable of promise and patience. I did everything right. I read every book. I couldn’t wait. And when that first spear peeked out of the lovingly tended dirt, I was so excited! Then, within three days of the first spear’s emergence, there was a beetle crawling on it. Of course I had no idea what type of beetle it was at the time, but I quickly learned: it was a bona fide Asparagus Beetle! What you have no way of knowing is why that seemed impossible to me at the time. We live on 45 acres of land that had not been inhabited for over 20 years when we built our home here 15 years ago. We live at least 1/2 mile from any other home. We are surrounded by marsh, woods and farm land (no, none of it growing anything even close to asparagus). And yet, somehow, an asparagus beetle had found it’s way to my newborn patch of asparagus. This was foreshadowing, of my future gardening drama, at its finest.

And today, I continue the fight, with eyes wide open. Yesterday marked our first truly beautiful Minnesota day (which I define as one with winds less than 50mph), and I took the first step of the dreaded gardening season: cleaning the asparagus patch. The only difference that marks this year from any other, is that I somehow managed to do it before the emergence of the first spear, allowing me to walk around without crushing the priceless stalks of early spring. No, I am not stupid enough to believe that I am turning over a new leaf. I was just lucky.

And despite my yearning for that first meal of freshly grown asparagus, I know that within 2 weeks of daily meals, I will be giving it away by the rounded armload to anyone who happens to drive down our long and dusty driveway. That, my friend, is one of the harsh realities of gardening. There is no such thing as moderation.

Burn Baby Burn. (No room in compost for dead tops)

How To Boil An Egg (no, I’m not kidding)

April 9, 2009

boiled egg results based on freshness of egg

Let’s get something straight, right off the bat: I am an experienced cook. And while I am the first to toot my own horn, I think most people who know me would go so far as to say I’m a good cook, too.

To the point: Every single year, around Easter, I invariably google “perfect boiled egg” or “how to boil an egg.” I recently bought a beautiful cookbook by James Peterson called Cooking, 600 recipes, 1500 photographs, one kitchen education. I would like to point out that Peterson does not scoff at my ineptitude. Seems boiling eggs (perfectly) gives lots of people problems. He says “when boiling eggs, the trick is to stick to the same method and learn exactly how long to cook them… to your liking.” I don’t actually use his method, but I do agree with him. His method is to put the eggs into already boiling water. Mine tend to crack when I do that, so I put my eggs in a good pot, cover them with cold water and bring them to a slow boil. Once that happens, I take the pot off the heat, cover the pan and leave them in the pot for 15 minutes.

But even doing that, I was still running into problems. And I finally figured it out. My problem isn’t likely to be your problem, but then again, you never know. So here is what I have learned about boiling eggs:

DON’T USE FRESH ONES!!

I have chickens, so I have really fresh eggs. I didn’t use to keep close of track of which eggs were the freshest, but — at least this time of year — I try a little harder. In order to boil eggs that will peel nicely and not leave some ungodly gelatinous ruin like the second egg pictured above, your eggs must be at least 2 weeks old — from hen to pot. Funny, isn’t it, that store bought eggs rarely, if ever pose a problem? It does happen on occasion however, and here is a good way to tell: put the egg into water and see what happens. Psychotic publications bordering on hysteria (you know, the ones that tell you that your frozen hamburger should be thrown out after six months when we all know it lasts forever…) will tell you an egg that floats vertically should be thrown out because it is bad. While I won’t tell you to eat an egg that is seriously floating on top of the water, I will tell you that deviled eggs will be the END of you if you don’t begin the process with an egg that is just on the verge of floating upward off the bottom of the pan. You won’t die, I promise.

To prove my point, I have photographed two eggs: the first is exactly two weeks old. I wasn’t careful about peeling it, so it isn’t perfect, but it was quite easy. The second should give you pause, if not violently turn your stomach. It is the same size, cooked the same amount of time. The only difference was that the second one was laid by one of my obliging hens today.

Actually, given what a pain in the ass deviled eggs are, it might not be a bad idea to use fresh eggs the next time you are asked to make them for a family brunch. I bet they won’t ask you again!