Fall: the season of new projects

Well, it's been a while. The far coast is awfully far away these days and I don't even have an out of the way farm house to center my activities around just now. I DO, however, have electricity and wireless internet access in my living room and two different jobs that find me in front of a computer more days than not. So I'm back--no promises but we'll see how it goes.

I'm not the first to comment on the abrupt and welcome arrival of fall but I'm appreciating it anyhow and have celebrated this second week of September with a trip to the Wisconsin Sheep and Wool Festival and an end to the summer moratorium on baking. After scrolling through pages and pages of rave reviews about Orangette's flourless chocolate cake, I was antsy to try it and decided a cool rainy Monday was reason enough to turn on the oven. It never quite set up but it's the sort of cake that you really don't mind eating half raw. In fact, my brother's lone claim to any sort of culinary fame are the years that he specialized in half-baked brownies. i won't say the recipe is a new all-time favorite but it took about 10 minutes to prepare and I'm awfully excited to eat the last slice when I get home this evening.

New favorites

I decided not to go kayaking on this gorgeous afternoon, one of a diminishing number on the far coast, because, I reasoned, teh respnsible thing to do would be a bit of job hunting. And here I am writing nonsense no one will ever read. Since I'm here, though, a few new favorites:

Blackberries and whipped cream, with just a touch of maple syrup. I'm not doing all that well on my local foods diet--mostly out of laziness and because it just didn't seem manageable with my current very limited kitchen situation. Blackberries with whipped cream and maple syrup, though, happen to be entirely local, even picked, milked and tapped on my own! And really, I can't think of anything I'd prefer to eat for dinner tonight OK, for dessert. For dinner I'm having fritata with black krim tomatoes and horn of plenty mushrooms harvested by my neighbor.

Edible Gear. I'm not sure it's really a favorite, though I am having an awful lot of fun thinking about it. The slogan is you last mile is your lightest mile. The company sells packs, sleeping bags, pads, tars adn more all edible, and most (all?) even organic. I remain skeptical. Which peice of gear do you eat first? And what happens if it rains, as it always does when I go hiking? And what if you get sick of gummy fruit roll-up type things?

The Local Challenge

I was inspired to be a better eater last fall after hearing about 3 folks from the White Earth Reservation in Northern Minnesota who had pledged to eat only food grown within 100 miles of their home for an entire year. My reaction: If they can do i in northern MN, I can do it on the Far Coast. I was reluctant to begin the year in November though. It seemed easy enough, well, not quite easy maybe, but within my power, but I needed a growing season to prepare. But it also seemed as though the whole purpose was to demonstrate that local eating is possible. And it should be possible for everyone, not just those who have the benefit of a farm at their disposal.

So, here it is, mid-June, and I'm still all talk--though I'm full of A LOT of talk. I think it's time to do more. There are a million excuses, though--What if I move and I can't take all of my canned goods with me? I don't have a good root cellar just now, I don't have a freezer, I'm sick of early summer greens, What about coffee, citrus and spices?

Doing a bit of web research, I found out that May was local foods month--aha! what a simple solution: Eat local for just a month at a time. That's easy enough to commit to. I still need a bit of time to prepare; maily to figure out what I'm going to eat other than veggies and meat. Here are the rules I propose to begin by:

1. All food must be grown or produced in the state. This is a big beginner's concession allowing foods that have been produced but not necessarily grown locally (i.e. bread, ice-cream, cheese or beer that includes out of state ingredients.)
2. A nod to community. Sharing food with friends is an important and valuable part of my life. Potluck and dinner party food prepared by friends gets a free-pass.
3. I don't eat out often here on the Far Coast but in the spirit of community there are some friends that I just don't see except over a meal out. I will allow myself two chances to eat restaurant meals that will almost certainly not be local, though I will make an effort to eat at establishments that make an effort to include local foods on their menus.

A few sites for more local eating inspiration:

• The 100 mile diet
• Localvores
• The Eat Local Challenge
  

Another rainy day in paradise

I’m enjoying my dry afternoon drinking coffee too late in the afternoon, along with most of the other residents of town (the café is packed this afternoon). I’m getting to really enjoy my mundane Thursday afternoon trips into town—laundry, coffee at the bookstore, reading the weekly paper and sometimes grocery shopping if I feel up for a treat (the real grocery shopping happens on Sundays when Mandy can come along and throw around her 15% discount at the co-op).

It often seems to me that I’m the only one left who isn’t unbearably busy. There are the city folks with drinking nights and intramural sports competitions and meetings and fancy jobs and business trips; and the scientists with experiments that demand attention every 3 hours around the clock for days on end; and the farmers who have amazing endurance and self-discipline to work 12 hour days six days a week. Sometimes my mundane schedule seems a sure sign of laziness—and maybe when it comes down to it, it is—but mostly it seems to me that there’s no point in living in a beautiful place if you don’t have time to enjoy it.

Beware the rabid skunk

Though I'd have never expected it, I've found myself living in ever smaller towns over the last number of years. Most of the time, things roll merrily along and I quite enjoy all of the things I just couldn't do if I lived in a more populated place. Don't get me wrong, I'm not about to deny all of those complaints that the coffee shop closes at 4:30 and 2 on Sundays, or that I can't ever walk anyplace...except the ocean... but mostly, I do love living near the far coast.

On a fairly regular basis, things happen that remind me just how small this town is. These are the sorts of stories that make you shake your head and smile. These are the stories that you tell over and over again to friends who live in bigger places, knowing that they are what make this place special.

This week's gem:
Encounter With Rabid Skunk Surprises Jefferson Resident

The guest room is open...and then some

Another warm, windy, squishy day. Since my office door won't stay shut in the wind and I have a loaner dog for the weekend, I decided to try and enjoy the weather with a walk in the back pastures. It is beautiful back there--I forget sometimes and don't get back there often enough.


The big news, though, is that Holly just took a job in Boston and will be leaving the farm (both farms, actually) in just a couple of weeks. With Mandy having just left on a 6 week road trip, the big, old farmhouse is awfully quiet. Somebody better start planning a mini-vacation to come visit me...I'm also almost out of my New Year's stash of New York bagels.

Indeed! A bank robbery

We were sitting at dinner one night last week, discussing nothing much at all, really--funny things the dogs did and silly things that happened at the co-op earlier in the afternoon--when she leaned in and asked "did you hear about the bank robbery?"

"The what?"
"The bank robbery" she repeated, braids swinging in front of her shoulders.

Now, in a place as small as the Far Coast, bank robberies just don't happen. Ready for a good story, everyone leaned in a bit. This was promising to be as good as last August's car chase.

Working in the store, in town, she always has the best gossip. "Well, I'm not sure, really, I heard that there was one guy and he got away with some money and I also heard there were three guys and they didn't get anything."

In the end, none of it was quite right, of course. There were two guys and they did get some money but they didn't get away.

Read all about it

Pull up a bucket

Last week at the hardware store, there was a man sitting on a bucket clipping his fingernails. Really, I'm all for a little handiwork while you're just sitting, chatting, but maybe you could finish the fingernails at home. Though the staff has been a bit surly lately, though nothing like the girls at the grocery store) I still prefer this local hardware store for it's quirkiness. Old guys clipping their fingernails seemed a bit over the top even here, though.

While he was clipping his nails, the man on the bucket was arguing with a middle aged clerk, insisting that youngins like him just didn't understand how the world used to be because it's sooo easy these days to buy marijuana. The clerk's sole response, repeated over and over was "you don't know that--you're too young to remember thatem."

Now, there are a number of things that make this story strange.
1. First, the man sure seemed as though he was old enough to remember
2. Of all things, marijuana? I'm not one to argue that life isn't easier these days--carrying a few buckets of water out to the far pastures convinces me of that regularly--but, really.
3. In a funny twist of fate, the daughter of the hardware store proprieter is the local police officer. I wonder what her take on the conversation might be.

yuck

As Garrison Keillor will tell you, complaining about the weather is an inextricable right for anyone who can call Canada a neighbor. That said, I live in a place that has four seasons by choice. I generally enjoy all of them and I like each and every season to manifest itself at the apprpriate time of year for the proper duration. And in January, that means SNOW.

Though I don't generally seek out the weather forecasts--my orchard and garden would probably appreciate it if I paid closer attention--today's forecast was so dismal it's all anyone talked about all week. In fact, the forecast for today sounded so bad that I've been looking forward to a hot bath when I get home tonight for two full days. And for once, they were right. I woke up to rain and fog and...huh, warmth. Just as I peeled off my wool sweater and dug out my yellow rain slicker and headed into the barn for morning chores, there was one final gust and then calm. I looked and wondered and smiled. Though I'm still a bit bitter to have lost those new snowshoe trails I blazed in December, I'm worried about my perennials and and I'm trying to not get too hung up on the fact that I haven't been cross country skiing even once yet this year, I'll admit it IS awfully nice to do morning chores without frozen fingers and toes.

Along with the passing of the warm temps though, my appreciation has waned. The wind has been howling through the barn all afternoon, rattling doors and shaking windows. The calves were only mildly reluctant to be led in from the pasture, still 6 hours shy of their routine 3:30 return to the barn for dinner and the cows haven't ventured out all day--a true testament to the unappealing weather after Mattie demonstrated her skill in opening the barn doors by herself yesterday.

City Mouse

Before heading back to the Fantastic Farm from a more urban holiday, I spent a few days in The City. Though we missed the lighting of the ice menorah in favor of the Baltic wedding band (which was suprememly enjoyable despite The Annoying Girls), we had a splendid New Year's Eve. My allegiance to the more rural environs presented itself in the highlight of the weekend, a trip to the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens. On the way there, we passed this tree. Can anyone read it?

Encouraged by the rainy weather, we spent most of our afternoon at the Gardens exploring the greenhouses and I relized, not for the first time, that in almost every city I visit, I find myself in the botanical gardens. This thought is always followed by some contemplation about returning to school to study horticulture, followed by a mental committment to be a better seed saver this year and water my houseplants when I get home. Back in the greenhouses, though, I was particularly impressed by the bonsai room. I liked that their little trees were just that--little trees. They didn't have the overly manipulated, blown off a mountain look that bonsai often do but insead looked just like minature trees. I took a couple of photos for my dad.

New Year's Day was spent in search of cheese. I'd been hoping to peek into Murray's, a sort of cheese Mecca, alas, they were closed for the holiday, which I was actually pleased to see, despite my disappointment. Having become accustomed to an entire state that takes snow days despite the studded tires on nearly every vehicle, and closes up shop for the littlest excuse of a holiday, it unnerves me to be a place that continues with commerce right through Christmas Day. We did finally acquire wedges of cranberry something or other, aged honey chevre and something blue, but not before a ferry ride to visit Lady Liberty in the harbour.

Not being a native Easterner, I'd gotten this far in life without ever actually having visited Liberty Enlightening the World, as we were informed is her more proper title, and it seemed un-American to pass 4 days in new York and not pay her a visit. The hour long narrated ferry trip turned out to be more interesteing than expected. Those sort of icons of culture surprise you sometimes. They come to seem so commonplace that you don't expect much and then, lo and behold, up close they turn out to offer something meaningful after all. I was particularly taken with the symbolism of the crown. It seems a little corny to say it now, but standing there on the boat looking at her, the meaning seemed so sincere. Here's a bit more about our national mascot:

There are 25 windows in the crown which symbolize gemstones found on the earth and the heaven's rays shining over the world. The seven rays of the Statue's crown represent the seven seas and continents of the world. (From the National Park Service website)

And another interesting bit:

In 1886 the Statue of Liberty was erected as a symbol of American generosity towards a hungry and unfree world. Lady Liberty initially was inspired by French abolitionists with the intention of saluting Lincoln and the emancipation of the slaves. Its original intent, celebrating the end of slavery, was redirected by the politics of "race" towards the White "huddled masses" of Europe.