Blunt about sewing

Christine hard at play

Let's face it.  As hard as my mother tried to turn me into a sewing/knitting/quilting adept (like herself), I am no more than a beginner at any of those arts.  I am, however, a periodic crafting enthusiast, and I owe it to the highly talented and persistent Christine Quickert Walsh for giving me enough skills and knowledge to tackle a project from time to time.  Thanks, Mom, and I'm certain that someday I'll be sorry I didn't transport all of your fabric, yarn, books, and equipment to my house when we were moving you out of yours.

Me appearing not-tense on the beach in Mexico

Sewing and knitting make me tense.  I love playing with all the pretty colors, designs, soft textures, and eye-catching patterns, but when it comes to physically DOING it, my fingers cramp, my eyes cross, and my shoulders  stiffen.  These crafts are also time-consuming, indoor activities which are really only appealing when the weather's truly snotty.  Therefore, the crafting months tend to be November (before ski season) and maybe March & April (before gardening season).

Laying out the blocks

So here we are. It's November, and guess who pulled her boxed-up log cabin quilt out of the garage today? Me. I actually still like it, which is a good thing considering how often I have started and stopped working on it over the years. I now have renewed enthusiasm for the quilt because Frank and I will soon be inhabiting our newly-built "surf pad" in Encinitas, CA, and obviously we'll be needing a bed covering. Frank's so sweet (and knows me so well); when I manically announced that I'm hoping to have the quilt finished in time to bring with us in December, he said, "That's great! And it doesn't have to be finished in time for our next trip. We can bring it down with us any time." That's one of many reasons why I love the man. Mr. No-pressure.

A block in progress

The log cabin quilt is going to be a beautiful thing when it's done. I love the fact that every block is different and I really get to play with the colors in it. I sew it a strip at a time, so there's no cutting of pieces, or pinning, or ironing - and I'm even quilting as I go! Don't ask me how I'm going to assemble it yet; I'll work that out once I get all the blocks sewn.

Are you a dandelion or an orchid?

photo from HerbCompanion.com

Those of you who know me know that I actively seek scientific explanations for what I observe in the world.  I have been trained in natural history with a heavy dose of evolutionary theory.  I will almost always ask, "How is _______ an adaptive trait?", whether I'm looking at pollination in the garden, or the hunting behaviors of my cats.

I recently read a brilliant essay called "The Orchid Children", by David Dobbs, originally published in The Atlantic, now in a collection called The Best American Science Writing 2010.  Dobbs explores the "orchid hypothesis" which suggests that genes which predispose some people to behavioral dysfunction may also enhance function in favorable contexts.

He explains that there are "dandelion children" (the social norm) who, thanks to resilient genes, do pretty well "whether raised in the equivalent of a sidewalk crack or a well-tended garden".  And then there are "orchid children" with a certain gene variant (about 1 in 5 people), "who will wilt if ignored or maltreated but bloom spectacularly with greenhouse care".  This risk allele has survived in the human population precisely because the risky behaviors have positive effects in certain contexts.  In fact, Dobbs refers to humans (and rhesus monkeys who share the risky serotonin-transporter allele with us) as "weedy species . . . able to adapt to new, changing or disturbed environments".  The fact that there is wide variability in our behavioral genes, may have allowed humans to thrive on this planet.

photo from PolkaDotPotato.com

For three weeks this fall I took a job working with a kindergartener with behavioral issues.  I'll call him "Nate".  Nate is a husky five-year-old who has already experienced his share of life's hard knocks and who is very smart.  In the time I worked with him, he exhibited many "externalizing" behaviors including kicking, hitting, pushing, and tripping other students (and me), and throwing temper tantrums when something wasn't going Nate's way.  At first, we removed him from the classroom and allowed him to spend most of his day in the resource room where he had a quiet environment and one-on-one attention.  Gradually, Nate chose to spend more of his time with his peers in the kindergarten class, but still needed a lot of intervention.  One day his teacher selected him to be "King of the Day", a rotating honor that is "randomly" bestowed upon each child.  Nate bloomed that day.  You have never seen a happier, prouder, more responsible little boy.  Adults who observed him wearing his paper crown AND smiling AND observing the rules all remarked on his changed affect.  After that day, Nate's behavior steadily improved to the point where he is now fully integrated into kindergarten WITHOUT an aid.  Nate is an orchid.  If he is given an optimal environment, he blooms and may even do better than his peers.

Most of us are dandelions.  We were pliable, obedient children, who didn't attract undue attention in school, could get along with our peers, and have bounced back pretty well when life got hard.  But we also know those orchids who were sensitive or sad, who were always in trouble at school, and developed dangerous habits later in life.  Somehow our society must continue to support those orchids and encourage them to thrive, because who knows?  Their specific strengths and abilities, if nurtured, might just be the key to our species' survival.

photo from Gator-Woman.com

Nature as gambler

Fall colors in the Pasayten

In my last post, "Gardener as gambler", I was thinking about how I hedge my bets in the garden, watching the weather forecast, harvesting some produce while risking the loss of some to eke out the last golden days of Indian summer.

Living here in the Methow Valley, the observant human witnesses natural gambling in every season.  I know from studying natural history, that in every population of plants, insects, and animals, there exist outliers - those individuals who push the envelope just a little by reproducing or migrating earlier or later in the season, or expanding into new territory.

Photo from Birdwatching-bliss.com

Hummingbirds are one obvious example.  They move up the valley each spring, gaining elevation, probably following the blooming willows and wild currants.  What benefits do the early comers derive?  Nights often drop below freezing when I observe my first hummer in April, and I rush to put out a hummingbird feeder to provide calories to the cold little gamblers.  Every fall I'm sure all the hummers have headed south and I'm ready to take down the feeder when one little guy will show up for another drink.  I had a visitor to the feeder at breakfast today, October 11.  "Fly south you little knucklehead!"

There are A LOT of mule deer here.  Our property is on the East Chewuch "deer highway" which connects the town deer (yes, that's what we call them) with the good foraging up river.  I won't share my thoughts on the deer population with you today, just know that they are doing VERY WELL.  

Mule deer youth in our front yard.

We observe our first spotted fawn each year in May or June.  This year I'm pretty sure that one doe produced triplets, but I don't know if all three survived.  Each year in the fall, we notice that some of the first-year fawns are noticeably less robust than their peers.  They were probably born later.  I actually say to them, "Eat up, winter's coming", because once snow lies and there's nothing green to eat, those little guys will begin  to starve.  They must survive off whatever fat they've managed to store up in their first summer of life.  Here's the hard part.  Every winter, Frank and I haul frozen yearling mule deer carcasses off the property after the lethal nights of the cold moon (January) and the hunger moon (February).

Frank in "the tube" sliding off the porch roof.

Every winter there's a thaw period, sometimes accompanied by the "Pineapple Express", a warm wind that blows out of the Pacific Ocean.  Daytime and nighttime temperatures may stay above freezing for a week or more, snow slides off the roof, and we'll actually have puddles of meltwater on the driveway.  Guess who shows up about then?  Mosquitoes.  That's right, every winter some number of mosquitoes hatch out during the thaw, only to perish before reproducing.  It's a gamble that must pay off some years, to be that first mosquito to hatch out in the spring.

Asparagus on May 5

The gardener as gambler

It's gambling season for Methow Valley gardeners.   The garden thermometer has read 32 degrees Fahrenheit on a couple of mornings, however my garden has not yet sustained a killing frost.  I honestly don't know why the tender plants haven't yet turned black, but I'll take my luck as long as it holds.

We've enjoyed lovely, warm days for the last week or so, and that's been enough to keep the tomatoes ripening, the zucchinis setting fruit (thanks to winged pollinators), and the pole beans blooming.  I've been watering the still-producing sections of the garden, too, which has kept those plants strong enough to withstand chilly nights.

purple pole beans

So, in what ways do I gamble in the garden?  Well, I didn't feel like gambling at all with the chiles when two weeks ago I harvested all peppers of an edible size.  Last year we had a killing freeze on September 21st which turned the peppers to mush, so this year I was more cautious.  I did, however, leave some smallish ones on the plants, and lo how they've grown in the last couple weeks!  That was a gamble that paid off.  Don't pull the plants if there's still hope for an Indian summer.

Every day I go out and assess the situation.  Do I pick all the baby beans, or wait another day?  Will these baby zucchinis get any bigger, or will they freeze tonight?  Shall I give the just-coloring-up Roma tomatoes another afternoon in the sunshine, or play it safe and harvest them all?  Our old-fashioned apple varieties actually benefit from a bit of frost, so I'll definitely wait for them to develop optimal flavor.

ripening Roma and Stupice tomatoes

Brandied grapes

This is our first year to enjoy a harvest of "Venus" grapes.  I think I've finally decided what to do with them (Boozy Concord Grapes thanks to the NY Times).  I'll let you know how it comes out in about a month . . . .

Turns out that dark purple is ripe.  They have a nice, sweet, Concord-grapey flavor.  

A nod to smitten kitchen

Oh my goodness.  Now THIS is the way to use fresh, local peaches.  I'm not kidding, people.  Try this recipe.

Thanks to smitten kitchen for weekly inspiration! http://smittenkitchen.com/2010/09/peach-shortbread/

Good fences . . . .

Okay, people, you all know about the importance of barriers - condoms, dental dams, 3 feet of personal space - but I'm here today to talk about pest barriers.  That's right:  pests.

Mule deer:  lovely to some, pestilence to others.

There are many challenges to gardening here, including low soil fertility, high winds, low temperatures, early and late frosts, and PESTS.  Where I live, pests burrow underground, browse on four long legs, and fly through the air.  They are a gardener's bane in the Methow Valley.  Here are a few simple (not easy), and cheap (not free) pest barriers which I have made use of in my garden.

The first is a fence.  I know, I know, it sounds obvious, right?  However, many people who first get into gardening around here try to get by for a while without one.  (You know who you are.)  This has only led to heartache and grief.  Unless you are really in to planting things and then watching them get destroyed by our four-legged browsers, JUST BUILD A FENCE.  I mean a good one.  Seven feet high with sturdy posts sunk 3 feet into the earth.  Trust me, people.  I know what I'm talking about.

These Jerusalem artichokes grow right along the fence line and the deer keep them "nicely" pruned.

Another useful arrow to have in your deer-proofing quiver is the tree cage.  These can be erected around a single tree or clusters of trees and shrubs.  They are not pretty.  I really wish I didn't have to use them.  However, after suffering depressing losses due to browsing and antler-rubbing (did you know a deer will strip a tree of its bark by rubbing its antlers on it?), I am now resigned to caging some trees.  We make a simple cylinder of  60" wire fencing supported by 4-foot lengths of rebar driven into the ground.  It's best to raise the base of the cage about a foot off the ground to enable weeding and grass clipping. 

A tree cage doing its job around a cluster of young trees and shrubs.

Within the garden fence, I've devised some simple pest barriers as well.  A couple of them protect my berries from snacking birds.  Mylar ribbons hanging from the raspberry wires (I stapled them on), are really bright, and scare birds away.  I'm going to use them next year in my cherry tree as well.

Light-weight wire hoops are stuck in the ground over my strawberry rows.  During berry season, I drape bird netting over the wire and secure it to the ground with "earth staples" or fist-sized stones.  We get to eat all the berries this way.

Baby greens

In early spring and late fall, I use PVC hoops covered with a frost-protective fabric to extend the season in my garden beds.  This year I'm using this same system to protect my "baby" lettuce and spinach from the hordes of grasshoppers.   

In August, it's nearly impossible to start a fall crop of greens, due to both the high temperatures and the munching 'hoppers.  The breathable garden fabric facilitates seed starting in two ways:  by shading the bed somewhat it lowers the soil temperature and decreases the evaporation rate, and it keeps out the insects.

Finally, pocket gophers are native to the Methow Valley.  Laurelle's garden is adjacent to a giant grassy field which hosts a stable population of the rodents.  There's nothing we can do about this.  Gophers will eat the roots of bean plants, and they LOVE garlic, potatoes, and carrots.  I have underlaid some of my beds with small-gauge chicken wire, back-filled with around 8 inches of soil, and plant right over it.  Eventually, I'll probably have most of the garden beds protected from subterranean munchers.

You can just see some chicken wire to the lower right in this photo.

Fruits of the earth

Rhubarb chard

I want to show off some garden photos I shot just now.  Note this produce has not been harvested yet, and some is not quite ready but as long as this beautiful weather holds . . . .

Snack-R-Jack pumpkin (hull-less seeds)

Arava melon

Lipstick pepper

Venus grape

My biggest fan

Me, not eating well

I often don't eat well when I'm home alone.  Or maybe I should say, I eat weird.  I'll subsist on coffee until mid-morning at which time I frantically re-heat and gulp down some leftover pasta.  Then I'll forget to eat again until late afternoon at which time I'll slurp down an iced mocha while making a gigantic salad to eat at one sitting.  Or I'll make a meal out of a baked sweet potato.  If I'm feeling emotional, (are you ready for this?) Spagettios may make an appearance in my kitchen.  I pretty much forgo "regular" mealtimes, and just eat when I get hungry.

Axiom #4: You'll eat better if you have someone to cook for.

Which brings me to my biggest fan, Frank Vander Wall.  Here he is, enjoying a turkey and tomato sandwich at our "normal" lunch hour.

Frank, eating well

You see, when Frank and I are home together for lunch, I actually prepare food and we sit down and eat it together.  Same goes for breakfast and dinner. Three meals a day at "regular" times.  I know what you're thinking: this makes me sound totally conventional and house-wifey, but get over it, people.

My sweetheart brings out many of my better traits. Cooking well and 3 squares are just a couple of them.  Many thanks to my biggest fan!

A New Zealand luncheon

Saving seeds

Blunt About Food is ideally a blog about my two avocations:  cooking and gardening.  This post will introduce you to the latter of those two passions, and hopefully shed some light on who I am.

I've been a seed saver and gardener since I first interned at Abundant Life in 1991.  But well before that, I studied ethnobotany at Evergreen and decided, "That makes a lot of sense".  Even before that, I came to the conclusion that if all hell broke loose, I'd want at least to be able to grow my own food.

I inherited the gardening gene big time.  There are many in my extended family who tend a garden, but according to my parents, there are a handful of us who are UNABLE TO KEEP OUR HANDS OUT OF THE DIRT.  This is not a hobby, people.  It is an integral part of who I am.

My cousin, Dan Quickert, shares this trait.  He has been an avid organic gardener for decades, and has quite admirably done a bit of plant breeding along the way.  Last spring, he sent me about 40 seeds of a purple-podded snow pea he developed and named "Midnight Snow".

Here are some fresh results of what grew from those seeds.

Midnight Snow Pea

The pea vines were crazy vigorous - reaching 7 feet tall before they started producing their lovely violet blossoms.  The pods were sweet and abundant; however, I was on a mission to save seeds and so I limited my edible harvest to what's in the photo.  The rest kept growing until the vines stopped sending energy to the pods and began to yellow.

With the help of Lisa (who was visiting from San Diego), I harvested the already-dying pea vines, and laid them on wire racks to finish developing and drying the pea seeds.

Tonight I shelled all the peas, and this is what I got:

Pea seeds ready for planting next spring

These seeds weigh 20 ounces, and 40 seeds equal 1/4 ounce, so my efforts were rewarded 80-fold!  I feel wonderful about this success.  I will send the majority back to Dan, and keep some for myself to grow next year.

There is something special about saving seeds.  It requires sacrifice; with most crops, saving seed means you won't be eating that fruit or vegetable.  It requires vision; you must think early about which plants you'll be saving for seed and designate them to that task.  It requires optimism; you are doing this for future gardens.  These are qualities I don't mind developing in myself as well.

Simplify!

This post will be brief - this is the summer of houseguests!

Axiom #3:  Fewer ingredients is always better, people.


It's kind of like a rule of good dressing I heard once - put on your clothes, jewelry, etc. and then remove one item.  (For some people it may be more like 2 or 3 items).  But you get the idea.  Less is more.

So.  If you have luscious, fresh cherry tomatoes out of the garden, highlight them in your recipe with just a few other ingredients.  Toss those little lovelies in that fresh pasta, use some garlic, olive oil, and crushed red pepper, and then STOP.  Resist the temptation to add the feta and parmesan, and chicken and, and, and. . . .

Of course, there's room in this world for complicated sauces, curries, jambalaya, etc., but really, they've already been invented.  And of course, if your ingredients are not fresh and wonderful you may have to cover them up a bit, but that's a whole other topic (and problem) entirely.

So here's to simple cooking!

I do sourdough.

I don't eat a lot of bread, but when I do, I really prefer a dense, sour loaf.  No surprise when I read that most commercial sourdough breads were actually "sour enhanced" through the addition of citric acid or some damn thing.


That's when I started playing around with sourdough.


Axiom #2:  Sourdough IS NOT rocket science. Ignore all the crap you read on the web about weighing your flour and water and getting your starter from someone's great grandmother.  It's really simple, people.

. . . just feed it once in a while

Sourdough is just a bunch of yeastie-beasties that naturally exist in our environment (like on that lovely, fresh, local wheat flour which you bought at the farmer's market), and would happily reproduce at room temperature with the addition of some water.

Sponge after 9 hours - NO added yeast

Okay, so I'm not going to go into a whole lesson on baking with sourdough here.  I'd have to charge money for that.  (Hey, that's not a bad idea . . . .)  And I'm really not a purist.  I will use a little commercial yeast to get a higher loaf or speed up the process.

Oh yeah, and there's sourdough pancakes (OH YUM) to cover another time.  Definitely superior to any other sort of pancake.

Here's some bread.

A really nice, crusty, dense, sour loaf.

Trust me, people.

I wouldn't steer you wrong.  Not when it comes to food.  Just trust me, people.

Axiom #1:  You can't make good coffee unless you're willing to keep your coffee-making device clean.  Really clean.  Remember how much better your coffee tasted right after you bought your (fill in the blank) machine?  That's 'cause it was CLEAN.  Old coffee shmutz tastes bad.  It will transfer to your cup of coffee.  Especially if your device has plastic parts.

So clean it.  Every time you use it.

We just got an AeroPress.  It's great.  It's cheap and it makes excellent shots of espresso.  The only thing is you have to buy yourself an excellent burr grinder (not cheap), or go to an excellent coffee purveyor, get 1/2 pound ground at one notch coarser than espresso, and be willing to buy it often.