I recently figured out any easy way to process the abundance of greens Bob and I take in from our garden and two CSA’s. It’s my job to keep the produce flowing from farm box to plate and the bulk of it is greens. Making sure we eat them is the best health insurance we can buy.
Prolific and inexpensive, greens are packed with an impressive array of vitamins and minerals including vitamins B1, B2, B6, C, and E, calcium, carotenes, copper, folic acid, iron, magnesium, manganese, phosphorus and potassium. Our immune systems are bursting with vigor from eating so much kale, chard, spinach, beet, turnip, and mustard greens.
Greens weren’t a part of my childhood. I was raised in the north on northern vegetables, many of them frozen, taken from the freezer and plopped into the steamer as solid bricks of peas, corn, broccoli, spinach, lima beans or brussel sprouts. My least favorites were okra, a slimy mound of fibrous discs and frog’s eyes and the whole leaf spinach which made me gag as the long veins worked their way down my throat.
It wasn’t until I was in my forties that I began cooking with fresh greens. It began with stirring a pound of chard into a pot of curry and evolved into greens as a side dish in its own right. This time of year, we’re eating half a bushel of greens a week.
Each week we pick up our weekly half bushel of fresh picked produce from Edible Earthscapes. This week it was packed with kale, chard, mustard greens, mizuna, carrots, and salad greens. This past Friday, Bob brought home a grocery bag full of kale and a half bushel of radishes, turnips and carrots, greens attached from Central Carolina Community College’s Land Lab.
The challenge of turning all of these greens into food can be daunting. Last night while I stood at the sink, rinsing and chopping greens, I couldn’t help but stare at the enormous kale plant outside our kitchen window, crying out to be harvested. “Any day now” I thought “Bob’s going to walk inside with his arms full of kale.” I caught myself hoping today wasn’t going to be that day.
Last year I froze a fair amount of greens and that worked out great. I just wash and chop and put them into plastic freezer bags and squeeze out the air. We cooked and served these frozen greens at a New Years Day party and they were just fine.
This year, I’ve challenged myself to keep up with the greens by cooking them as I get them to eat that night or keep for another meal. Save the freezer space. Get the vitamins at their fullest. It doesn’t take that long to fix them up when we get them and a grocery bag full cooks down into six or seven cups which takes up a lot less space in the refrigerator.
Here’s what I do. I chop an onion and sauté it in peanut oil in a large pot. I put all the greens in the sink and rinse them, then stack the leaves on the cutting board and chop them into bite sized pieces. I’m finicky enough to remove the large veins from everything but the chard but that’s up to you.
Stir the chopped chard stems and the heavier greens (kale, chard, mustard greens and collards) into the onion, add a couple of tablespoons of tamari or soy sauce and cover to let them steam. After a few minutes, I stir the greens up with the onion and add the lighter greens – spinach, turnip, radish and mizuna to steam for another minute.
This delicious green vitamin dish is now ready for storage or can be cooked a little longer and served immediately. And that’s how easy it is to keep up with the greens!
KEEPING UP WITH THE GREENS
I recently figured out any easy way to process the abundance of greens Bob and I take in from our garden and two CSA’s.It’s my job to keep the produce flowing from farm box to plate and the bulk of it is greens.Making sure we eat them is the best health insurance we can buy.
In addition to being abundant and inexpensive, greens are packed with an impressive array of vitamins and minerals including vitamins B1, B2, B6, C, and E, calcium, carotenes, copper, folic acid, iron, magnesium, manganese, phosphorus and potassium.Our immune systems are bursting with vigor from eating so much kale, chard, spinach, beet, turnip, and mustard greens.
Greens weren’t a part of my childhood.I was raised in the north on northern vegetables, many of them frozen, taken from the freezer and plopped into the steamer as solid bricks of broccoli, peas, spinach, corn, lima beans and brussel sprouts.My least favorites was the okra, a slimy mound of fibrous discs and frog’s eyes and the whole leaf spinach which I gagged on as the long veins worked their way down my throat.
It wasn’t until I was in my forties that I began cooking with fresh greens.It began with stirring a pound of chard into a pot of curry and evolved into greens as a side dish in its own right. This time of year, we’re eating half a bushel of greens a week.
Last night we picked up our weekly half bushel of fresh picked produce from Edible Earthscapes.http://edibleearthscape.wordpress.com/
It was packed with kale, chard, mustard greens, mizuna, carrots, and salad greens.This past Friday, Bob brought home a grocery bag full of kale and a half bushel of radishes, turnips and carrots, greens attached from Central Carolina Community College’s Land Lab. http://www.ces.ncsu.edu/chatham/ag/SustAg/farmphotoapril0808.html
The challenge of turning all of these greens into food can be daunting.Last night while I stood at the sink, rinsing and chopping greens, I couldn’t help but stare at the enormous kale plant outside our kitchen window, crying out to be harvested.“Any day now” I thought “Bob’s going to walk inside with his arms full of kale.”I caught myself hoping today wasn’t going to be that day.
Last year I froze a fair amount of greens and that worked out great.I just wash and chop and put them into plastic freezer bags and squeeze out the air.We cooked and served these frozen greens at a New Years Day party and they were just fine.
This year, I’ve challenged myself to keep up with the greens by cooking them as I get them to eat that night or keep for another meal.Save the freezer space.Get the vitamins at their fullest. It doesn’t take that long to fix them up when we get them and a grocery bag full cooks down into six or seven cups which takes up a lot less space in the refrigerator.
Here’s what I do.I chop an onion and sauté it in peanut oil in a large pot. I put all the greens in the sink and rinse them, then stack the leaves on the cutting board and chop them into bite sized pieces.I’m finicky enough to remove the large veins from everything but the chard but that’s up to you.
Stir the chopped chard stems and the heavier greens (kale, chard, mustard greens and collards) into the onion, add a couple of tablespoons of tamari or soy sauce and cover to let them steam.After a few minutes, I stir the greens up with the onion and add the lighter greens – spinach, turnip, radish and mizuna to steam for another minute.
This delicious green vitamin dish is now ready for storage or can be cooked a little longer and served immediately.And that’s how easy it is to keep up with the greens!
William R. Forstchen, professor of military history at Montreat College in North Carolina wrote a disturbing doomsday novel about John, retired military and military history professor at Montreat College struggling to defend his family from the apocalyptic aftermath of an EMP event. One Second After opened my eyes in ways I am not sure the author intended.
EMP is the acronym for Electro Magnetic Pulse and is something I had not heard much about until I read this story. In the forward, Newt Gingrich describes how EMP works. “When an atomic bomb is detonated above the earth’s atmosphere, it can generate a ‘pulse wave,’ which travels at the speed of light, and will short-circuit every electronic device that the ‘wave’ touches on the earth’s surface.”
Gingrich stresses that “we as Americans must face that threat, prepare and know what to do to prevent it.” or the “America we know, cherish, and love will be gone forever.” Forstchen delivers a terrifying scenario over the next 345 pages.
The first few chapters were painful and gave me bad dreams. I considered abandoning the effort but out of respect for the co-worker who had lent me the book, continued reading. Despite the dire situation, the choices the main character and his cronies continued to make seemed unnecessarily selfish and harsh. In the hope that there would be an epiphany, a change of heart, perhaps a softening of their paranoia, I slogged my way through to the end.
John, his family, neighbors and community literally don’t know what hit them on the day of the EMP attack. Their electricity goes out along with their TV, radios and computers. All non-vintage cars refuse to start. The nearby highway is instantly littered with inoperable cars and trucks. “Outsiders” begin walking into town looking for food, a phone, or a place to sleep.
Within a day or two the stores in town have been looted and many of the people in the nursing homes have died. John coerces the nice lady at the pharmacy to give him a large supply of insulin so he can keep his diabetic daughter alive. She survives a few months longer than the other diabetics who die when their supplies run out.
The police chief, the mayor and a couple of other town leaders begin meeting daily. They look to John for counsel because of his military expertise and he uses his mother-in-law’s Edsel to drive down from his home in the mountains every day. Martial law is declared. John is elected to conduct the first public execution on the tennis courts. An ex-drill instructor transforms the college students into an army.
I was unable to identify with the main characters because Forstchen’s military focus and sparse writing skills resulted in shallow characters that are severely stereotyped. John and the other town leaders were portrayed as patriotic, paranoid, fearful and selfish with a strong belief in violence as a method of coping. The prototype was male, ex-marine, and capable of defending themselves, their families and the townspeople.
Forstchen’s formulaic writing style is sparse and repetitive. I lost count of how many times he used “He smiled” “She grinned” and “We’re Americans.” I disagree with one reviewer who wrote “One Second After is a masterpiece of distopian [sic] literature that ranks with 1984 and Brave New World.”
I found myself identifying with the peripheral characters. From Mayor Kate Lindsey, who continually votes for softer ways of dealing with the situation, to Jim, the pony tailed Volkswagen mechanic with the ‘can do’ attitude, to the College students who unselfishly gather food from the woods to help feed others.
Food Security grows next door at Edible Earthscapes
It was heartening to note that, at the same time this small town is focusing on defending themselves from outsiders, many are digging up their lawns to plant gardens. There is one discussion about saving some cattle for breeding stock although as far as I can remember, this did not come to pass.
More than not, the focus of the story is guns, cars, and drugs with occasional references to strategies involving water collection, gardens and alternative transportation. I found it odd that there were no short wave radios in the story and that when conventional radio transmissions were received they were solely from “Voice of America.”
365 days after the EMP event, eighty percent of the population had died, the deer, bear and wild boars have been hunted into near-extinction and food is now being grown everywhere. On this day, a military column passes through town on their way to Asheville. They stop to congratulate John and his battalion of former students and to pass out food and vitamins. The convoy leader shares some news and the column moves on, leaving the lean survivors to continue fending for themselves. The country is being taken over by the Mexicans and the Chinese and America will never be the same as it once was.
This unlikely read has turned into a valuable experience for me. It has sparked conversations with friends and farmers about food security and forced me to consider what might happen in an emergency. Reading “One Second After” reaffirms my decision to focus my energies on cultivating a healthy local foodshed, gives me renewed respect for my neighbors who tirelessly grow food, and inspires me to get to know more of my neighbors.
The next time a friend offers me a book which I might not choose on my own, I’m going to read it. I’ve learned that reading an alternative point of view can help me understand a different set of values while reinforcing my own beliefs. I will continue to choose cooperation over force but am now aware that not everyone will follow a non-violent path.
“Guantánamo” was closed down last week, and it’s residents were transported to a new facility, in Moncure NC. There were no injuries, nor loss of life, and both the residents and new neighbors were thrilled to have it relocated to their community.
Guantanamo - Summer 2008 - Moncure, North Carolina
“Guantánamo” was the name I chose for the 250 square foot garden I created in front of our house at Oilseed Community where we spent the first two years after moving to North Carolina in 2007. There were three underlying reasons for the choice.
The first was due to my profound disappointment in my country’s choice to incarcerate and torture human beings without due process of law. I understood that some of the inmates at the prison in Cuba were criminals, but that does not demand a rescinding of legal and human rights – concepts previously supported by the United States of America.
Incarcerated human beings at our "detention center" in Cuba
The second reason was due to the name my friend Lyle chose for his garden some years back. Lyle’s garden is named “Cuba”, a name chosen by the inspiration he gained by learning about how the island nation of Cuba responded to the abrupt ending of their petroleum addiction after the demise of the Soviet Union in 1991. Cuba reacted to the loss of its Soviet supply line by instituting land reform, and encouraging farmers and agronomists to retool Cuban agricultural production to methods that did not require petroleum inputs, for fuel, fertilizers, or pesticides. This amazing story can be learned though a documentary produced by The Community Solution entitled “The Power of Community: How Cuba Survived Peak Oil”
In North Carolina, if you want to take more food off your garden than the deer do, you need to fence your garden in, giving it the look of a place more suited toward the incarceration of edibles than the nurturing of them. Lyle’s garden, surrounded by it’s eight-foot high fence, provided him and his family a space to produce their own food, without the need for fossil fuel inputs. My first exposure to gardens with tall fences was at Lyles’ when he provided Camille and me a room for a couple of nights on an exploratory visit we made to the area in April 2007. Needless to say, I was captivated by the concept.
Lyle brought out the heavy firepower that made the move possible.
The third reason for my name selection was due to the influence of a master kumu hula, Hokulani Holt-Padilla, who I had the pleasure of working with back in 2000- 2001 while working with the Kaho’olawe Island Reserve Commission. One of the many pieces of wisdom I gained from Hoku was that place names are important. She helped me understand that place names are part of what defines the spirit of a place, and its people.
Guantánamo was the name originally bestowed upon the southeastern area of the island by its original human inhabitants, the Taino. Columbus landed at the bay in 1494, promptly changed the name to Puerto Grande, and started the systematic decimation of the indigenous population.
When I told one of my Oilseed neighbors that I was considering naming the garden Guantánamo, their response was “Oh, don’t say that word!” For them, you see, that word represented the unjust incarceration and torture of human beings, and was something not very pleasant.
So there you have it. My little fortified garden was, from that point forward, known as Guantánamo. I wanted people (at least a few) to associate the name with a place of life, beauty, and sustenance rather than a collection of incarcerated and tortured humans. I was hopeful that our new president would stand by his campaign promise to close down the “detention camp” at Guantánamo Bay in his first few months in office. Since he didn’t, I did, with Lyle’s help. We moved the containers, with food growing in them to their new home next to my new garden, christened “The Sunken Gardens of Moncure”, since it is housed in an abandoned swimming pool.
That story will need to be told, in its own space in its own time, and will likely be titled “A Moveable Feast.”
Yesterday was the first day of spring. After a cold, wet winter, we are beginning to enjoy temperatures in the 70′s. I wore shorts to work Friday for the first time since last year. What we took for granted during our eight years in the tropics – sparse wardrobe, open windows and lettuce – have become a seasonal delight.
Our neighbor’s yards are abloom with daffodils and the mocking birds start yodeling at dawn. Bob is starting tomatoes and peppers under lights in the back bedroom and has planted carrots and peas in the garden, with onions and potatoes going in next week. I’m having a high time pruning back the pampas grass and washing windows. Our CSA boxes are overflowing with arugula, carrots, turnips, spinach, chard and lettuce.
Ironically, yesterday was also the seventh anniversary of the day the United States invaded Iraq.
During the past seven years our country has spent about $700 billion dollars in Iraq destroying infrastructure and killing people. In addition to wounding hundreds of thousands of people, we name among the dead over 4,000 American soldiers, 9,000 Iraqi soldiers and an estimated 100,000 civilians. And that’s just in Iraq.
Nearly 100,000 American troops remain on the ground in Iraq, with another 68,000 in Afghanistan. And President Obama is sending another 30,000 troops to Afghanistan this spring in hopes of winning the war there. A war that has raged for over 8 years, killed over 7,000, wounded more than 11,000 and cost $740, billion. A war that is logistically un-winnable.
At least one person in Congress is actively pushing to put an end to these wars. Congressman Dennis Kucinch believes we need to replace the Department of War with a Department of Peace. Kucinch recently pointed out that according to our Constitution, Congress, not the president, should be deciding when we go to war and when we stop. He is at the front of an effort to encourage Congress to vote on whether to withdraw our troops from Afghanistan. He also points out that squandering tax dollars on the war in Afghanistan is something we cannot afford to do.
“And it should also be of interest to people that we can’t afford this war. When you consider the fact that you have 47 million Americans who don’t have any health care, they don’t have it because they can’t afford the premiums. You have 15 million Americans out of work. You have another 10 million Americans, at least, who could be losing their homes this year due to foreclosure. You would think that we have other priorities. You would think that it would be time for us to focus on things here at home.” – Dennis Kucinich
With so many reasons for us to bring our soldiers home, it seems like a no-brainer. That is, until we consider the real reason why we’ve continually been at war since 1945.
After World War II, it was decided that we needed to create an industry dedicated to manufacturing armaments and machines for defense and the Military Industrial Complex was born.
In his farewell speech to the nation, January 17, 1961, president Eisenhower described the transformation and cautioned the American public that abuse of the new system was a possibility. In other words, we might simply keep ourselves at war in order to keep the industry alive.
“Until the latest of our world conflicts, the United States had no armaments industry. American makers of plowshares could, with time and as required, make swords as well. But now we can no longer risk emergency improvisation of national defense; we have been compelled to create a permanent armaments industry of vast proportions. Added to this, three and a half million men and women are directly engaged in the defense establishment. We annually spend on military security more than the net income of all United State corporations.”
“This conjunction of an immense military establishment and a large arms industry is new in the American experience. The total influence-economic, political, even spiritual-is felt in every city, every state house, every office of the Federal government. We recognize the imperative need for this development. Yet we must not fail to comprehend its grave implications. Our toil, resources and livelihood are all involved; so is the very structure of our society.” – Dwight D Eisenhower
In the councils of government, we must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the military-industrial complex. The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists and will persist.
What Eisenhower warned could happen came to pass. The U.S. now has a complex which keeps our defense budget in the hundreds of billions compared to other countries with budgets in the billions or at most, fifty billion. In fact, if you look at the defense budgets of all other countries and sort them by amount, it takes the top twenty countries budgets to add up ours.
The military-industrial complex, on an annual basis, accounts for 47% of the world’s total arms expenditures. We not only fuel our own wars, we provision the rest of the world for wars and conflicts of their own.
It’s been a long winter of destruction indeed, and many of us are itching to see it end. I’d like to see the makers of swords get busy making plowshares. I’m ready for spring and I’m ready for peace.
SEVEN YEAR ITCH
Yesterday was the first day of spring. After a cold, wet winter, we are beginning to enjoy temperatures in the 70′s. I wore shorts to work Friday for the first time since last year. What we took for granted during our eight years in the tropics – sparse wardrobe, open windows and lettuce – have become a seasonal delight.
Our neighbor’s yards are abloom with daffodils and forsythia. Bob is starting tomatoes and peppers under lights in the back bedroom and has planted carrots and peas in the garden. I’m having a high time pruning back the pampas grass and washing windows. Our CSA boxes are overflowing with lettuce, arugula, carrots, turnips, spinach, chard and other cooking greens.
Ironically, yesterday was also the seventh anniversary of the day the United States invaded Iraq.
During the past seven years we’ve spent about $700 billion dollars destroying infrastructure and ending the lives of over 4,000 American soldiers, 9,000 Iraqi soldiers and an estimated 100,000 civilians, while wounding hundreds of thousands others.
Yet nearly [100,000 American troops remain on the ground in Iraq]
this spring in hopes of winning the war there. A war that has raged for over 8 years, killed over 7,000, wounded more than 11,000 and cost $740, billion. A war that is logistically un-winnable.
As far as I can tell, there is only one person in Congress actively pushing to put an end to these wars and that is Dennis Kucinich. Congressman Kucinch believes we should create a Department of Peace to replace the Department of War. Kucinch recently pointed out that according to our Constitution, Congress, not the president, should be deciding when we go to war and when we stop.
Afghanistan Debate Begins in U.S. House Early This Afternoon
“And it should also be of interest to people that we can’t afford this war. When you consider the fact that you have 47 million Americans who don’t have any health care, they don’t have it because they can’t afford the premiums. You have 15 million Americans out of work. You have another 10 million Americans, at least, who could be losing their homes this year due to foreclosure. You would think that we have other priorities. You would think that it would be time for us to focus on things here at home.”
With so many reasons for us to bring our soldiers home, it seems like a no-brainer. That is, until we consider the real reason why we’ve continually [been at war since 1945.]
After World War II, it was decided that we needed to create an industry dedicated to manufacturing armaments and machines for defense and the [Military Industrial Complex] was born.
President Eisenhower described the transformation and cautioned the American public that abuse of the new system was a possibility. In other words, we might simply keep ourselves at war in order to keep the industry alive.
“Until the latest of our world conflicts, the United States had no armaments industry. American makers of plowshares could, with time and as required, make swords as well. But now we can no longer risk emergency improvisation of national defense; we have been compelled to create a permanent armaments industry of vast proportions. Added to this, three and a half million men and women are directly engaged in the defense establishment. We annually spend on military security more than the net income of all United State corporations.
This conjunction of an immense military establishment and a large arms industry is new in the American experience. The total influence-economic, political, even spiritual-is felt in every city, every state house, every office of the Federal government. We recognize the imperative need for this development. Yet we must not fail to comprehend its grave implications. Our toil, resources and livelihood are all involved; so is the very structure of our society.
In the councils of government, we must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the military-industrial complex. The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists and will persist. ”
And his concerns have come to pass. The U.S. now has a complex which, on an annual basis, accounts for 47% of the world’s total arms expenditures. We not only fuel our own wars, we provision the wars of the rest of the world.
It’s been a long winter of destruction indeed, and many of us are itching to see it end. I’m ready for spring and I’m ready for peace.
The other day, Bob went to Windy Meadows Farm to visit Gerry Levitt and brought back a crooknecked pumpkin they grew from seed we saved. This beautiful squash represents three generations of crooknecked pumpkins, beginning with the first one we brought home from The Cupboard in Denton, Texas.
Bob plays around with the grandmother crooknecked pumpkin we bought in Texas in 2007.
It was three years ago when we were shopping for food at the natural grocery that we saw a pile of very large squash. Unable to resist the unusual shape and sheer size, we bought one and took it home. We used it for a photo op prop before eating it for dinner. Or several dinners as it turned out.
The crooknecked pumpkin hails from the butternut squash family and has a very small seeds-to-flesh ratio compared to most squash. There are seeds in the bulb of the squash only. The long neck is pure butternut. Even better, we found that it stores well after it being cut, so we could cut off a meal-sized piece and put the rest of the squash back into the refrigerator.
Like butternut, the crooknecked pumpkin was delicious! So Bob saved seeds and planted them in his North Carolina the next year, after we moved . We were rewarded by an enormous plant with half a dozen giant pumpkins. That’s when we discovered that they stored for months without showing signs of wear. Which explains why the Amish are so fond of them. We also learned that most of the pumpkin in canned pumpkin that you buy in the store is actually crooknecked pumpkin.
Camille with a 13-pound crooknecked pumpkin, the largest of our 2008 crop.
Bob saved seed again and since he’s teaching farmers as part of the Sustainable Agriculture program and Central Carolina Community College, he shared his seeds with his students.
The next year, our crooknecked pumpkins didn’t do so well. They were hit hard by squash bugs and squash vine borers. We were disappointed to miss a year. Or so we thought.
Gerry gave Bob one of the crooknecked pumpkins he harvested last October, grown from the seed Bob handed out in class the year before. We can’t wait to start hacking off meals from this beauty and of course, saving some of the seed!
Posing as green media, Jeffery D has managed to ruffle many feathers. He has harassed and alarmed Biodiesel supporters across the country.
It began two weeks ago when Mr. D sent emails to both the SBS (Sustainable Biodiesel Summit) and the NBB (National Biodiesel Board) requesting press passes to both the Summit and the NBB Conference being held in Grapevine, Texas this weekend.
Next, he began calling and interviewing speakers. Meanwhile, the SBS organizing committee decided not to grant him a free pass on account of we already had our media guy picked out. The venue was being held at a private venue and there wasn’t going to be a whole lot of room for two cameras.
Also, his increasingly abrasive emails and calls were making all of us uneasy. At this point, neither the SBS nor the NBB were inclined to welcome him into the Summit/Conference.
Before you know it, Jeffery’s nose was out of joint and he began to threaten us. He tracked down the home phone number of NBB’s CEO and threatening to notify Michael Moore and the entire Dallas media if he was not given a media pass. In response, both organizations made plans to beef up security.
So, here we are, a small group of Biodiesel enthusiasts, gathering to talk about ways to keep the industry alive and getting harassed by a Michael Moore wanna-be.
I was a movie enthusiast in the 80′s and routinely went to the second-run Denver movie theatres. This fiasco between SBS and Mr. D reminds me of the 1969 animated short Bambi Meets Godzilla, which was often shown before the main feature at the old Ogden Theatre.
Our friends at ECO (Eastern Carolina Organics) do a great job of getting local produce into local markets and restaurants. As is the nature of their business, they sometimes end up with seconds. When that happens, they generally alert the people who work nearby at Piedmont Eco Industrial park.
A few weeks ago, it was cabbage. ECO sent an email offering 1.8 bushel boxes for $15 in order to cut the loss to the farmer. Bob bought a box and we began working our way through forty pounds of cabbage.
The first thing Bob did was give away five heads. That night I fixed one of our favorite cabbage meals: “Repollo Orientale” which is Spanish for Oriental Cabbage.
Repollo Orientale was the brainchild of the Nicaraguan cook at a lodge on Little Corn Island who often served it to the help for lunch back when we were on staff. It’s an easy, tasty dish made of sautéed cabbage, garlic and onions seasoned with shoyu, ginger, cayenne and sesame oil and served over fettuccini.
The next day sixteen juicy Cabbage Burgers went on the potluck table with a marinara sauce for dipping. They went over well and we sent four more heads of cabbage home with friends.
To make the Cabbage Burgers, I started with a spicy, foccacia dough which I rolled out and stuffed with a filling of fried Gimme Lean sausage, cabbage, onions and garlic. Click on “Continue Reading A CASE OF CABBAGE” below for the recipe. The nice thing about these is they store well and can be eaten later.
That weekend, we processed more of our windfall into sauerkraut using Sandor Katz’s recipe. This is our first attempt at kraut and we’re excited because we love sauerkraut with mashed potatoes and Tofurky Kielbasa or Beer Brats. Every week that kraut gets tastier and we’ve already used some of it in a Borscht I made using local beets and dill.
We also love cole slaw, so I shredded six heads and mixed them with mayonnaise, sugar, salt, pepper and vinegar. I added some shredded carrots from our garden for color. That first week after we got our case of cabbage, no one left our house without cole slaw or some other form of cabbage.
By far, the best thing we did with our cabbage windfall was have an Okonomiyaki party with our friends Jason and Haruka of Edible Earthscapes. Okonomiyaki, or Japanese Pizza is not difficult to make if you have a griddle and a mix for the batter. But you can also mix up your own batter and fry them in a cast iron pan. Here’s a link to a blog dedicated to Okonomiyaki with batter recipes and videos: http://okonomiyakirecipes.nthmost.com/
As unlikely as it sounds, cabbage pizza is indescribably delicious!
One and a half heads to go and we’re unable to decide whether to put it into Okonomiyaki, kraut, slaw, Oriental, Borscht or cabbage burgers. I suspect we’re putting off the decision because we don’t want this wild cabbage ride to end. Maybe we’ll get lucky and happen into another case of cabbage from Eastern Carolina Organics.
The last week of December is the week when I usually make my New Year’s Resolutions. But Bob and I are moving this week and are consumed with the endless chore of packing, cleaning, unpacking, sorting and shuffling our monstrous mountain of household goods.
Today should be our last day in Camelina and tomorrow we’ll focus on sorting out everything at Trouts Farm. Thursday I’ll start cooking enough black-eyed peas, rice, greens and cornbread to feed fifty people and Friday, we’re hosting a New Year’s Day Hoppin’ John party.
So I have not given any thought to what hurdles I’d like to jump in 2010. Everything outside the current task at hand seems insurmountable.
But then Bob came across an amazing video and shared it with me. After watching Danny MacAskill and his amazing bike acheive the inconceivable, I think I’ll be able to come up with at least one goal for the coming year. Great name for a bicyclist, by the way – Mac Ass Kill! If you’re needing inspiration for your own News Years Resolutions, here it is!
Today is the 107th anniversary of your birth. For as long as I can remember, you’ve been part of my life. Thank you for all that you taught me while you were here. Thank you for thirty-five years of unconditional love. I think of you every day and often long for your counsel.
I love you for your sense of humor, for your extraordinary sense of justice and for your fantastic cooking. I have many memories of sitting around the table after dinner laughing at the world together and at ourselves. You were a passionate Democrat back in the day when that party championed social justice and you devoted many hours as president of the local organization.
Born in Poland, you came to the United States as a child to rejoin your family in New York City. At fifteen, you began working as a servant girl to an Irish family. You learned to speak English. At seventeen you married Frank Illo and began a family.
Your life was not without struggle. You made a bed for your baby in a hotel dresser drawer as you and grandpa toured with the Burlesque show. Your second child, a daughter died at an early age. Your oldest son lied about his age and joined the war. At one point, you were subjected to electric shock treatments for depression.
As a child, I knew nothing of your past. All I knew was that you baked the best chocolate chip cookies I have ever eaten. There was always a tin stocked with cookies in your kitchen. Your potato leek soup is legendary, as was your poppy seed cake. On Summer Sundays, your two sons and their wives and eight grandchildren would gather on your lawn with Grandpa and other relatives for fried chicken, potato salad, corn on the cob and chocolate cake.
Everything you made was perfectly prepared, meticulously shopped for and beautifully presented. I loved riding with you as you did your shopping. We’d stop at a farm with a beautiful Jersey cow for cream and butter, the butchers for sausages, the bakery for bread and the grocery store for produce. You gave me an aluminum colander and a Pyrex bowl from your kitchen to start my own. Thirty five years later, I still use them nearly every day.
There was always a dog named Susi in your home. When one would die, the next new female dog to enter your household was named Susi. You spoiled your dogs shamelessly, putting ice cubes in their water in the summer, setting down a bowl of warm coffee with half and half and honey on winter mornings, frying beef liver for their dinner and rubbing calamine lotion on their bug bites.
In return, the dogs babysat the grandkids, accompanying them through the woods and around the neighborhood. Before I could walk, you’d place me on a blanket to be watched over by a big, black dog named “Sissy.” I was Sissy’s little sister and took this to heart during my “dog phase.” For a spell I ran around on all fours, barking and growling while the other kids behaved like human beings.
When I was tiny, you loaded me into the laundry cart and wheeled me around as you cleaned house. I watched as you harvested tomatoes and chives from the garden. I listened to you sing your way through your day. As I grew older, you taught me to cook, shop for clothes and apply makeup. We had no secrets, you and I. You cared enough to involve yourself in my headlong rush though life and I trusted you completely.
When I was in my twenties, I returned east and lived with you. I remember drinking wine after dinner and dancing together in the living room. Your favorite song was “Those Were The Days.” We’d sing it at the top of our lungs and cry along to the words. And dance.
Those Were The Days – Lyrics
Once upon a time there was a tavern
Where we used to raise a glass or two
Remember how we laughed away the hours
And dreamed of all the great things we would do
Those were the days my friend
We thought they’d never end
We’d sing and dance forever and a day
Yesterday, I saw a larger-than-life metal sculpture of a zebra outside French Connections and thought it would be the perfect lawn ornament for our new home in Moncure. Today, Bob and I went back and bought it.
Zebras have long been a theme in our life together. Years ago, we dreamed up a comic strip which featured a zebra named “Spot.” We were going to call it “Savannaland” and it would be a combination of Disneyland, Dilbert and the Far Side.
Spot, the main character was based upon a photograph in National Geographic of a zebra with a spot between two of its stripes. The premise was that Savannaland was engineered to create the illusion of reality.
The animals clocked in every day in an underground tunnel. Their job was to provide a Safari-like experience for human tourists who were carted around in land rovers just out of sight of the inner workings of the theme park. Spot was one of the operations guys who worked alongside make up artists, cafeteria workers and actors to create a lifelike Savanna.
And then there’s the zebra picture. For as long as we’ve been together, we’ve hung a painting of two galloping zebras on the wall inside our back door. In the picture, the zebras are running away as fast as they can. They hang by the door to remind us not to hesitate when it’s time to leave.
It’s hard to say where we’ll hang our zebra picture after we move this time. We think this may be our last move. For one thing, we’ve grown very attached to the people in our new neighborhood. We work together, eat together and play together. For another, we’re in our fifties now and this will be our fourteenth move since we got together seventeen years ago. In fact, I’m able to remember more than forty homes .
We plan on naming our new yard art “Spot” and putting him out to graze the front yard beside the pampas grass. He isn’t pretending or running like those other zebras in our life. He stands head up, with all four feet firmly rooted on the ground. This zebra stops here, proof that we’ve finally found our perfect spot.
Bob and Camille found each other in 1990 and soon recognized each other as soul mates. They threw in with each other two years later and began to travel the world as man and wife a couple of years after that.
After living in Colorado, Virginia, Belize, China, Guam, Oahu, Maui, Nicaragua and Texas they decided to throw in with the make-their-own-fuel and grow-their-own-food crowd. In 2007, Bob and Camille did a stage dive into a community of farmers and fuel makers in rural North Carolina and settled in.
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Jesus! The Missing Years…
Plastic Farm Animals is undergoing reconstruction due to a catastrophic mistake made by our former ISP, who shall remain nameless. Stay tuned as we laboriously upload, one by one, more than 170 missing posts from 2004, 2005, 2006 and 2007.
I recently figured out any easy way to process the abundance of greens Bob and I take in from our garden and two CSA’s. It’s my job to keep the produce flowing from farm box to plate and the bulk of it is greens. Making sure we eat them is the best health insurance we can buy.
The challenge of turning all of these greens into food can be daunting. Last night while I stood at the sink, rinsing and chopping greens, I couldn’t help but stare at the enormous kale plant outside our kitchen window, crying out to be harvested. “Any day now” I thought “Bob’s going to walk inside with his arms full of kale.” I caught myself hoping today wasn’t going to be that day.
Here’s what I do. I chop an onion and sauté it in peanut oil in a large pot. I put all the greens in the sink and rinse them, then stack the leaves on the cutting board and chop them into bite sized pieces. I’m finicky enough to remove the large veins from everything but the chard but that’s up to you.
