I love libraries.  I have stated this on more than one occasion but and this is a big BUT a Kindle Fire appeared in my stocking this Christmas.  It wasn’t love at first click but I’m warming up to the glow from the fire.   

I’m fairly certain any statistician worth his or her data would have me reading a romance novel or a cookbook but they would be wrong.  The genre for 2013 appears to be detective novels – starting with the complete Sherlock Holmes series of stories.  As I read, I can guess the killer early on in many of the tales because I have now seen the same plots repeated and slightly updated on CSI, Law and Order, NCIS etc.  Science may have progressed but the plots remain the same.  

Yes, I do remember the theme of this blog is food.  Food is about to come in play with my ramblings. A feature I’m enjoying in my electronic reading is the ability to highlight a word and have a definition appear.  Admittedly some of the words used by Sherlock Holmes aren’t in a modern dictionary but I’m surprised how many are.  Take “ulster” for example.  When I see the word Ulster I immediately think of Ulster Knife Works – manufacturers of the first Girl Scout knife but when Sherlock tosses an ulster on before leaving Baker Street I’m pretty sure he’s not wrapping a knife around his neck. A quick tap on the screen and I now know about an ulster overcoat.  

The “pip” is more interesting and luckily it is food oriented.  In one story a client came to see the great detective Holmes and told the tale of an envelope being opened and five orange pips dropping out. I was fairly certain from the passage that a pip was an orange seed.  A tap on the tablet’s screen and yep, I was correct, except the definition said “like an orange seed.”  

Other fruit have seeds too. Now I had the nagging thought “are those fruit seeds called pips as well or do only oranges get this odd little name?” A further search revealed that my thinking was correct. Many other fruit have pips; especially pomegranates.  The entire inside is nothing but pips.   

 Still further research led me to quite a few definitions for “pip” with none really related to the others.  Pips are also the dots on dice or if you’re in a verb sort of mood a pip is also what happens when a baby chicken breaks out of its egg shell.  It pips at the shell.  

Oranges, eggs and dice – now we’re talking breakfast with a side game of craps.  No that’s wrong: maybe I’ll use the dice to play Monopoly.  

 I’m enjoying Sir Arthur Conan Doyle because he’s so descriptive.  His killings are intriguing and he immerses you directly into his century with his descriptions of people, unfortunately less so with food.  My thought is that food is so commonplace to an era that it needs no description.  His readers could easily visualize statements such as: He ate a pickled egg or the roasted goose was laid on the sideboard.  It takes more for a reader to visual the “baddie”.  No matter the decade to bring reality to the story and give the reader a clue a villain needs large dirty well-worn hands (to pick up the pickled egg) or a have a permanent sneer on his face (as he surveyed the plump goose).  

 I have not given up my love for the library.  I can wander, touch and feel books in the library. The room is mine to explore and my local librarians have such intriguing books on the browser shelf.  On a tablet I need a starting point before I begin scrolling for titles.  Currently I’m working on finding a happy balance between my two reading sources.  You can be sure though whether its paper or electronic there will be food somewhere in whatever I read.   

  

It all started when I lost my cinnamon sticks.     

I wanted to pickle the beautiful red beets we had received in our CSA basket, and my recipe called for 1 whole cinnamon stick.  I rummaged and ransacked, going through every nook and cranny, becoming increasingly agitated… but my pantry had suddenly become a No-Cinnamon Zone.  Don’t you hate it when you’ve got your mind set on making something and an ingredient is missing?  Not wanting to make a trip to the store for one measly piece of cinnamon, and secretly believing in my heart that they will still turn up, somewhere, someday, I found what I thought would be a suitable substitute:  a large piece of star anise.     

And you know what?  I think I will never use cinnamon in this recipe again.  The anise is absolutely perfect!     

This is an easy recipe for anyone new to pickling.  The hardest part is the long wait while the beets cook! If you give it a try, please let me know what you think of the addition of the star anise.  Do you like it or would you prefer cinnamon?     

Small-Batch Pickled Beets with Star Anise  

3 pounds beets  
½ cup sugar 
2 cups vinegar 
½ cup water 
1 piece star anise 
1 teaspoon whole allspice 
6 whole cloves 

Place beets in a large saucepan and add enough water to cover.  Bring to a boil and cook until fork-tender.  Remove pan from heat and immerse beets in cold water.  Cool to room temperature, then peel.  You should be able to slip the beet skins off with your fingers, but you may need to use a small knife for assistance.  Slice beets into small (no larger than 2”) pieces.  

Tie the spices into a small square of cheesecloth.  Heat the sugar, water, vinegar, and spices in a large saucepan until the boiling point, then add beets.  Boil 5 minutes.  Remove the cheesecloth bag containing the spices and discard.   

Pack hot beets and liquid into sterilized Mason jars.  This recipe doesn’t have a large yield, so you will probably only require 5 half-pint jars or the equivalent.  Seal and label.  I didn’t process my jars in a boiling water canner as I would normally do, as I intend to eat them over the next few weeks.  If you don’t process for storage, then ensure your jars go into the fridge once thoroughly cooled.  Use them up within 1 month.  

As I was attempting an extensive house cleaning I came across a book filled with recipe cards.  Like finding a high school yearbook or long lost love letter the cleaning was put aside as I read through the cards and thought about the people who had given me the recipes.

  

First and foremost was a recipe for Eggplant Parmesan.  The card is has been splattered with water or grease but those stains don’t blur my memory.  It’s been years since I made this recipe but because of it I learned to appreciate eggplant; consequently I judge all Italian recipes by the quality of their Eggplant Parmesan subs.  I love Eggplant Parmesan, thanks to Susan and her recipe card. 

Star Wars and The Recipe Card 

When I got the card it was during the time Star Wars first flew onto the movie screen.  At the time Susan’s husband was a medical student at Emory University.  Susan and I met because we both worked in the same department at the medical school.  The card is smudged – almost beyond readability but I can just make out the recipe.  Enough so that when the weather cools down a bit I’ll make the recipe again and recall the wonder we all had at the special effects in Star Wars.  Sadly, the jump into hyperspace is not nearly as breathtaking when seen on a TV as it was in the movie theatre.  My grandchildren, and even my children, cannot comprehend the awe that was Star Wars when it arrived in theaters.  That magic was akin to the first time we melted cheese in a microwave oven.

 Memories flood back as I flipped through those recipe cards from aunts, grandmothers even friends of my mothers.  Cards that recalled my youth.  Cards given as wedding shower presents.  Recipes I carefully copied out of magazines. 

 

My Mother’s First Recipe 

I have to stop my recipe remembrances to tell a story on my mother.  Mother, Jean Dunham Davis, was at one point a respected wedding caterer and hosted memorable dinner parties.  It seems when she was first married she could have used a few recipe cards.  She had no idea how to cook and every night made her new husband, my father, a sandwich using potted meat.  After a year her mother sternly took her aside and told her she had to learn to cook!  Mother said she insisted that “Clark loved potted meat” but my grandmother wisely advised her that his love would only last for so long.  Luckily for her marriage she took the advice.  

Recipe Cards are Better Than the Internet 

Recipes on my cards include brownies, Moroccan Chicken with lemons and olives, rum cake, yeast rolls and more.  As these recipes were being lovingly hand written and passed down through the generations who would have thought that one day with a click on the finger all these and thousands more could be found within seconds.  Yes, I can find so many recipes on the internet but what I can’t find online are the memories that went with the cards.  That’s more precious than the recipes themselves.

 Do you have a favorite recipe tucked away on a card somewhere?  Share your story with the Grit community.

We’re coming up on the first birthday of SB 81, the Texas cottage food law that was signed by Gov. Rick Perry on June 17, 2011 and went into effect last September.

Cottage food laws allow individuals to make certain non-hazardous foods (generally baked goods, jams, spices, etc.) in their home kitchen and sell them directly to consumers; currently, there are 32 states with cottage food laws. In theory, these provisions remove barriers for both entrepreneurs and consumers.

But in my dear Lone Star State, it’s not been all sugar and spice and everything nice. Home bakers hit a serious roadblock when the proposed labeling rules were unveiled. In a flurry of red tape, cottage food producers had to include an ingredient list in descending order of prominence including metric measurements (is it just me, or is that essentially publishing your secret recipe?) and also the words, “Made in home kitchen, food is not inspected by the Department of State Health Services or a local health department” in at least an 11-point font.

Although I understand letting consumers know what is in their food and where it came from, I can’t help but feel like these are a bit extreme. But thanks to a grass-roots campaign new labeling rules were published just a few weeks ago, which seem to have at play a little more common sense and a lot less bureaucracy (for more details, visit Texas Cottage Food Law).  Unfortunately, some producers are coming up against city zoning laws that threaten to put them out of business– on Tuesday, the Planning & Zoning Commission of the city of Frisco will decide whether to hold a public hearing on their home occupation rules, which currently forbid home bakeries.

Cottage food laws, or baker's bills, are growing across the US (photo courtesy: Robyn Lee) 

This entire cottage food battle –the achievements and the challenges– has my mind begging a few questions: when did we start invoking the name of public health as a way of scaring citizens? Frankly, I put far greater trust into the food of a local producer trying to support their family over a corporation creating profits for shareholders. Hands down. And when did we stop trusting ourselves? Somewhere along the way, we’ve been convinced by food marketing and government entities that we –the individual– cannot possibly take care of ourselves. We cannot possibly grow our own food or bake our own treats. I disagree. I say let them eat cake…and bake it too, for Pete’s sake!

What about your state? Do you have any cottage food laws? If not, want to get one going? Visit www.cottagefoodlaws.com   

You can take away HBO, cable TV and what the heck, even the television itself, and I can be perfectly happy because I have a library card and I know how to use it.

Granted, to answer a trivia question or do some fast research, the internet is a godsend but I’ll put a good reference librarian up against Wikipedia any day when real research has to be done.  Actually, it doesn’t even have to be hard core research, it can be just for fun facts too.

It’s not all about research either. Last week I found two great books on my library’s browsing shelf: “Marshmallow Madness” by Shauna Sever and “American Food by the Decades” edited by Sherri Liberman.

Let’s start with marshmallows.  Living in places that tend to be hot and muggy I have never tried to make marshmallows but after turning the pages of this book I may have to give it a try.  Ms. Sever has some of the best sounding titles for her creations:  Cookies ‘n Cream, Mocha Kahlua-Filled, Key Lime Pie, Creamsicle, Margarita, Fuzzy Navel, Sea Salt Caramel Swirl, Red Velvet, blonde rocky road.  Hungry yet?

“American Food by the Decades” is an entirely different book.  Once you have read this book you’ll want to check your calendar for plenty of open dates for cocktail parties and church socials; anywhere you can astound groups of people with your knowledge of food trivia. Did you know the “Club Sandwich” was actually invented by someone in the 1900s?  The Saratoga Clubhouse in N.Y., where the potato chip was also  invented, lays claim to the club sandwich.  Carvel Ice Cream was started in 1929 when Athanassios Karvelas (Tom Carvel) borrowed $15 from his future wife.  And though it seems to have been part of my life forever the Egg McMuffin has only been part of the McDonalds family since 1973.

Actually the reason I was at the library last week had nothing to do with food but as usual food seems to creep into everything I do.  It was while I was scrolling through a seemingly endless roll of microfiche, reading the local newspaper from around 1898 that I found an unusual reference to food.   What I was trying to find was information for a talk I’m giving later this month on the Philippine War but through the bolo knives, Krag rifles, and information about the climate in the Philippines I found this food tidbit.  In 1898 it cost the U.S. Army 18 cents a day to feed a soldier.  By my calculation that is $5.40 for food for a month or about $140 adjusted to today’s economy.  Eighteen cents when in 1898 one meal consisting of a meat, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob and a glass of buttermilk at a restaurant could cost up to 35 cents or more.  For less than the cost of one dinner the Army was feeding a solider for the entire day.   I would say I’m impressed with the Army’s frugality but then again I’m not sure I would want to eat what was being served.

When the Hobby is Food there’s no telling what my local library has to offer.  

I’m a “take it or leave it” camper, with an emphasis on the leave it, but since I’ve been involved with Girl Scouts on and off since the mid-80s, I have spent a good deal of time inside tents (family size, backpacking, platform), cabins, screened porches and I’m sure other structures I can’t easily remember.  

I’ve enjoyed my time tramping through the woods avoiding poison ivy, canoeing, generally doing lots of outdoor crafts and, of course, eating and cooking food, but if I wasn't with the Girl Scouts I wouldn't be there at all. With such an ambivalent attitude to camping you’d think I would be the one jumping on the gourmet camping bandwagon; making food less outdoorsy, more homelike. Not so. I actually have a more backpacking mentality when it comes to group food; less is better. Unfortunately, most other leaders have a different concept of food in the woods.

My life with Girl Scouts began about the time elaborate wooden camp boxes were on the way out. I saw a few with neatly labeled shelves for the supplies. Sure, the boxes were organized but they were heavy. Through the years, most leaders have turned to plastic totes for carrying the supplies into camp. As a "less is more" fan, this works for me.

Granted, I can understand the pride a Brownie has cooking her own breakfast on the top of a #10 can. As the adult who rounded up the cans, punched the holes for ventilation and made sure there were enough tuna or cat food cans to put the fuel in, I can honestly say “once was enough.”

Food, like most activities in Girl Scouts, is about progression. Take Silver Turtles, a campfire staple. As a leader, what I remember is that if the leaders had already sliced up the potatoes and gotten the meat into a reasonable portion size, a Brownie could quickly pile on the chosen ingredients before an adult made sure the sides were folded tight. Then another adult placed the aluminum packet on the coals and removed it when done. In their minds, the girls had cooked the entire meal. They were happy and proud campfire cooks. It got easier as the girls got older and could do their own peeling, slicing and cutting. They also got more creative with their foil wrapping. Swans would paddle onto the fire. Fish shapes swam into the heat. Perhaps a triangle or trapezoid would identify whose food it was.

If it was left up to me, we would have arrived with a large cast iron skillet, and every meal would have been cooked in that one pan – with the exception of dessert, which would be a 3-ingredient cobbler in a cast iron Dutch oven. Yes, there would be s’mores, but technically s’mores aren’t dessert. S’mores are a neccesity, every night.

One trip, a particularly creative leader came prepared with oranges for everyone. The tops had to be sliced off, the middle scooped out and added to a dry muffin mix. Everything was then spooned back into the orange, wrapped in foil and placed on the glowing embers. A lot of work, especially considering only one person actually ate the resulting breakfast (it wasn’t me).

Girl Scouts have been proud campers since 1912. I’m glad I got a chance to be part of the movement, and I hope they continue cooking for another 100 years. 

 

 

 Remembering the Picnic of the year this fine sunny day…

It was time to drive to the Castle; the Diva’s Castle Bash would be tomorrow and we really needed to hit the road.

Betty is my Mother-in-law’s best friend from kindergarten; I finally managed to kidnap her from the Garden State (or the state of perpetual pressure as I like to call it) and dragged her off to the farm.

I had Jack with us too (Teenage Man with Muscles – TMWM) so a stop at a hamburger grease pit would be a necessity.  I mentally suggested a sushi bar to Jack and Betty; looks of horror on their faces instantly came to mind – I decided a verbal proposition was not in order.

After four hours of hoofing it down country roads, we were welcomed in the drive by very bright light left on by the MWM to guide us in.  It must be new, I thought, blinking back the tears.  The NJ red-eye left me dead beat tired. 

I had not seen the MWM for two days; we unpacked.  He looked ravenous and assumed food would be needed.

Scrambling through my blue rubber carry-all, I produced some hard and soft cheese on a plate, kissed the MWM, popped a bottle of wine for Betty and my Mother-in-Law, and headed off for a hot shower.

By ten I emerged properly seared by my steam bath.  The others were enjoying Jack Benny on NPR.

I must say NPR and Benny sounded appealing, but my body kept tempting me towards the bedroom.  I obeyed, hit the pillow, and lights were OUT!

Next day was full of preparation for the fun and festivities planned for the HBF picnic at the Diva’s Castle.  HBF is our Church upstate, and Putter, the Pastor, knows everybody who ever lived or is presently living within 50 miles of Hamilton, NY.  Maybe even people who aren’t living yet.

Putter is on the Board of the Earlville Opera House, heavily involved with Colgate University (and its students), and very plugged in to the community, and the music scene. He is truly a cornerstone of the community. I know am leaving out pages of accolades here, but this is just a blog remember – not a novel!

That being said, there are always new and interesting folks to meet when Putter is around!

Putter and Reyna, better known as “Reyna and the Rev” are playing below in the “grove” – a little spot on the farm Putter dubbed with the name.   

 

I smiled.  Reyna wanted a ground protected outlet — obviously; she had never been to the “castle” yet.  She was in for a surprise.  The electrical system was very distinctive to say the least.

The MWM, his Mother, Betty and Jack took on the outside duties, and I manned the kitchen.  After cleaning, mowing, preparing two batches of chili and a vat of mac and cheese we were able to get dressed.

 Betty came out first, and I almost laughed aloud.  “Ha!  Stepford,” I shouted in reference to her hat, “wait, I’ll join you in that idea!”  My Mother-in-law gave me one of those “what are you up to” looks as I left my kitchen duties.

I was back in a flash with my flowing black linen jacket, black pants and shirt and a nice wide brimmed black hat, and a grin.  My mother-in-law muttered, “It has that turn of the century look,  it looks like a modified swim suit  for the Victorian era, or some sort of retro riding outfit – all you are missing is the crop.”

“Stepford, ladies, Stepford,” I said.  “Remember; don’t take any of those pills the men hand out at Noon!” I warned, arching an eyebrow, and headed off to the grove.

Well, needless to say we had over thirty-five people show up.  We heard a bit of Reyna and the Rev.  Jack was far too interested in the tractor to remember to take any pictures.  But I managed to get a couple; here's one of the hay ride.

 

Then, there it was – thirty-five people sitting in the grove, and just as the charcoal was lit a crack of thunder hit!  And the rain came pouring down. 

Yes, all of my readers know what happens next – the angels have taken out their popcorn bags again.  We are officially on the DE (Divine Entertainment) Network.

Thirty-five folding chairs and their carriers quickly piled into the living room.   A few brave men carried the B-B-Q off to the little barn to cook the food on.

One of the students actually knew who Johnny Mercer was and identified the music playing on my stereo – I was elated!  All is not lost in the world.  And, even better, They left the music on. 

People were happy. There was food.  There was harmony.  There were games.  Everyone was chatting.

The hit of the party though was the MWM’s raffle.  We used a deck of cards that had little bits of scriptural wisdom the MWM would read aloud.  I’m sure the angels loved that. 

Plus, we had prizes that ranged from Gas Cards, to Bibles, to Word Puzzle Books, other oddities, and Bottles of Wine (Yup folks — it was a Church Picnic — but the raffle was handled by us; Putter knew nothing about the prizes – especially the wine!  *smile*).

We managed to squeeze in the great hall, and if the power remained on – the water and toilet would operate.  The angels would have to settle for watching a bunch of folks have a great time despite the weather.  And so they did.

Everyone left about 7PM – Stuffed, content, and happily tired.  I tried to send off as much food as possible, and the rest would be lunch.  It was a chock-full, fun filled event that will surely happen again.

The next morning I was standing in the church.  Despite all of the activity yesterday, I still had no ideas for this blog.  It was fun, but there was just no story-line sparkle. 

I was freezing as usual – one of those little issues I have to deal with.  I whispered to the Maker of All Things, “Will ya just show me that silver lining already?”

Then, I must say, I had the biggest laugh since day one of 2011.  Instantly, I felt a tug on my pant leg and a determined little girl said vociferously, “Hey, why are you so cold anyway?”

I looked down at this gritty little blonde in a slip of a polka-dot dress – probably four or five years old I think.  She was clearly a visitor – I had never seen her before.  I answered, “Well, why aren’t you cold in that little dress?” and zipped up my Colgate sweatshirt.

The answer didn’t intimidate her. 

After a few more verbal encounters from the young lady to include – how come authors from the nineteenth century are dead, and what color red eyeglasses REALLY are.  (Kiddo — yes, my reading glasses ARE red  — And yes, everyone else, I DO have eyes.) 

   

I thought, “Oh look, it’s me come back from my childhood.”

This must be a DE episode from Scrooge!

I smirked, “I thought He broke that mold for sure!”

My mind began to whirl – Scrooge episode or not – that little powerhouse holds the sparkle I’ve been looking for.

 

I noted the ruby slippers and said, “Hey, who are you anyway, Dorothy?”  My Mother-in-Law insisted she was too young to have ever seen or identified with the political undertones of the Wizard of Oz. 

Sensing the child’s superior intellect, I was certain she had seen the movie.  I said, “Hey, did you ever see the Wizard of Oz, and is your name Dorothy?” She said, “No, it’s Ruby – and yes, I have the video at home,” and then buzzed off like a bee on a business trip. 

The Maker of All Things laughed.

You see, Rainbow has always been a religious song for me.  The lyrics of that song are very important – kind of my mantra.  I could understand Dorothy’s plight — just her and Toto, and even he was on his way to the dog house!

The Maker of All Things has used imagery from those lyrics to get me through life’s roughest spots.

 Our Farm upstate was purchased under a beautiful rainbow after the worst CNY flood in decades.  It has communities of bluebirds abounding on it.

 Now, I have this wonderful picture of a little girl with sparkle in a pair of ruby slippers to add to my “collection.” 

Those slippers reminded me of another little girl who wanted to make a journey over the rainbow – to a place she felt she would finally “belong.”  

Now, at nearly forty-eight, she has come to realize that place was not over the rainbow at all; it was beneath the rainbow, near an artsy little town in Central New York, on an old farm – just like Dorothy’s.

The ghost from childhood past – or just a star from a great DE episode for Sunday morning?  I don’t much care – she did her job.

Well, as the saying goes, “There’s no place like home.” 

Don’t lose that sparkle Ruby!

Splashingly yours,

Muck Boot Diva

It is the first chilly weather we have had at Cowlick Cottage Farm this fall. Last night dropped down into the thirties, and Lulu, our little labradoodle, slipped into our bed and snuggled in the valley between us, stretched out full length, her fuzzy head on my shoulder. She snores.

Outside, the hens huddled together on their roost in the coop, sleeping in until the sun was fully up. I greeted them with a breakfast treat of yogurt and figs, and they gobbled it up, clucking appreciatively. As the days get shorter, the hens spend more time in the coop, going to roost early and napping in the sunshine during the day. We are still getting eggs, but fewer. To everything there is a season, and the girls deserve a resting period.

Eric and I will finish retiling the old fireplaces today. The surrounds were cracked and worn, covered in nothing but aging white paint. The hearths were covered in cheap red tile trimmed with poorly fitted pine edging. I want them to be restored to their graceful elegance in time for Thanksgiving, when the girls and their friends will be home.

  

Eric levelled the surrounds and mantles, and they look much prouder now, standing up straight and even. The natural slate tiles we chose are earthy and rustic, like the rest of the farm. The muted colors of the slate are a soft reflection of the wines, golds, greens and browns that dress our rooms. Once finished with dark grout and a coat of sealant to protect them, the new tiles look as if they have always been here, and the hearth is once again the heart of our home. To us, that is the signature of a successful renovation project.

Tonight, we will celebrate our hard work and the onset of cold weather with dinner in front of the fire. I made a hearty stew, which will simmer gently on the stovetop all afternoon. The savory aromas of pork, red wine, wild mushrooms, onions, garlic and carraway make the cottage a cozy haven and whet our appetites. The rich stew is served simply, with crusty rye bread and cold beer.

A salad from the garden will round out the evening meal. I love winter salads, composed from what is fresh and ready to harvest. I picked the first of the gorgeous Red Sails and Parris Island Cos lettuces. They are tender and sweet. Crispy white radishes add a hint of sharpness and heat. A few sprigs of thyme, and a shaving of aged blue cheese make the salad sing. A light vinaigrette made with walnut oil, fresh ripe figs and a dash of balsamic vinegar is all the dressing the salad needs. Being limited by what is fresh from the garden or the farmer’s market encourages creativity. Don’t be shy about combining unusual ingredients in your salads. If the vegetables and herbs ripen at the same time, they usually taste great together!

  

A simple meal by the fire with some beautiful music in the background and loved ones gathered around–what could be better?

  

Lulu lazing by the fireplace.

I’m a charcoal guy. While I’ve used gas grills and gas smokers in the past and been completely impressed with the ease, taste and inexpensive fuel, I prefer to do my own outdoor cooking over charcoal. So when the people at All Seasons Homestead Helpers agreed to team with GRIT and give away one of their Brinkmann Smoke’N Grill charcoal smoker/grill combination, I was excited for our readers. You can enter this GRIT Gear contest for free at our GRIT Gear Sweepstakes webpage. 

There really is nothing like firing up a charcoal grill or smoker, filling the air (or neighborhood, if you’re in town) with the aromatic, familiar smell of burning charcoal. Even more wonderful is throwing on a pork shoulder, or a similar cut, and slow-cooking it for several hours while you go about your Saturday. 

And it doubles as a nice little charcoal grill. Before I got a Smoke’N Grill, my only charcoal grill was a little Weber Smoky Joe, which does great and is super efficient when I’m just cooking for me and my fiancé. But when I want to have the pals over to listen to a ballgame, cook a little food and shoot the breeze, I need something bigger. This product really does provide a good option for both charcoal grilling and smoking. 

One of the first things you notice is that the lid does not fit completely tight on the frame of the smoker – there’s a small gap between the lid and frame of the grill. That’s all part of the design, though, as the smoker/grill depends on the bottom-up draft of air to heat the water pan and provide the flavorful smoke that slow-cooks the meat. The heat indicator is also super nice to have, as all you need to do is check the indicator from time to time. Just be sure the needle is in the “Ideal” range and add some charcoal or soaked wood chips if the temperature is dropping (I suggest apple wood chips). A couple of times smoking and you'll know exactly how many briquettes you need to throw on the fire in order to bump the temperature back up.

And there are two chrome-plated steel grills for 50 pounds of cooking capacity, which is plenty for me at this point. 

Retailing at $170, this charcoal smoker/grill combo is perfect for those of us who enjoy cooking over charcoal, be it grilling or smoking your meat. 

I’ll never forget the taste of the first cut of meat I prepared on mine; about 6 hours smoking a 4-pound Mulefoot pork picnic shoulder from one of Hank Will’s pigs. I’ve never tasted better pork.

Thanks to All Seasons Homestead Helpers for both their dedication to supplying Rural America with a variety of products to help around the farmstead – from canning equipment to kitchen composters to meat processors – and to the readers of GRIT with this fantastic giveaway.

Tonight we had a wonderful homegrown meal. Steak sourced to my sister's farm in Honey Creek, Iowa. Potatoes grown right here in Georgia. And a large, beautiful, salad harvested right here at Odom's Idle Acres. As I stared at my bowl (roughly 10 seconds before I dug in) I remembered (in paraphrase, of course) a quote by Hayakawa, U.S. Senator and prolific member of the Bohemian Club.

Ever since man began to till the soil and learned not to eat the seed grain but to plant it and wait for the harvest, the postponement of gratification has been the basis of a higher standard of living and civilization.
--S. I. Hayakawa

Here's to a higher standard for us all!

Whether you call it serendipity, luck, coincidence, or the hand of God, sometimes you just feel guided down a certain path. You find the dominoes just sitting there, patiently waiting for you to knock them down. I recently experienced this phenomenon. Reaping the benefits will require a bit of work on my part, but I am going to do my best.

A couple of weeks ago, I was out celebrating World T'ai Chi Day, and a woman from my Tai Chi class said something about the Topeka Natural Foods Co-op. Now, here's where I admit that I've lived here almost 3 years, and I didn't even know we had a co-op, let alone its location. (Until now I've driven over to The Merc in Lawrence to meet my natural food needs.) Turns out the woman's husband is an officer in the co-op. She took me over to show me the place and told me about their Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) offering, touting fresh produce until November. And, well, they had just one spot left on their list.

I've read and written enviously about people with CSA memberships. The cost and amount of food they talk about always seemed to be too much for my single, publishing-salary life. This one fit my budget and is a grocery bag full of produce rather than the "box" I've heard about. (See the dominoes all in a line?) So, right that minute, I signed up – and the first pick-up was last Friday.

I really wanted asparagus. (What could be better than fresh asparagus?) So did everyone else, apparently, because even though I got there within 20 minutes of the start of pick-up, the asparagus was already gone. But what was left was so gorgeous. Japanese mushrooms, radishes like we used to have on the farm in that special luminous red, carrots with dirt still on, bok choy, farm-fresh eggs, a bag of baby spinach, and some mixed greens. There were even some choices in there like asparagus or mushrooms, carrots or shitakes, eggs or spinach. Some lovely volunteers kept the tables full (even filled them especially for my photographs) and helped with decision-making.

I got home with my haul and was a bit intimidated. But, here we are almost a week later, and I've done an OK job of not wasting what I took home.

Right away I got out Susan's bok choy slaw recipe from GRIT and made that up (yum). Most of the mushrooms got sautéed and included in a stir-fry/fried rice dish. The carrots I'm eating raw or grated on sandwiches (made with bread created by Hank's Partner in Culinary Crime). I made the best egg sandwich ever with farm-fresh eggs, dill bread and havarti cheese.

The spinach and greens make great salads. I'm not a huge radish fan, but they're just so darned beautiful to look at I couldn't resist. I did salt a couple and eat them like we did when I was little, and I found a radish salad in Simply in Season that I'm planning to try.

I'm so excited to have the opportunity to support local agriculture, to eat food that I know how it was raised (I think I'll try to visit the farm sometime this summer). I sometimes talk about how much I miss eating meat that I knew by name. (I'm sure this sounds weird to some of you, but when you grow up knowing that the cute baby calf will sustain you later, it becomes a part of life.) With this, the garden here at work, and maybe even some meat from one of the farmers I know here, I'm feeling more and more connected to my food and this community.

I'm sure there will be weeks when I get veggies that aren't on my favorites list, and I may ask you all for recipes to help out with the weird stuff I'm expecting. But, the dominoes were lined up too perfectly for me to not give this a try.

Anyone have other suggestions for bok choy? Or something for my gorgeous radishes that doesn't taste too radish-y?

By definition marmalade is a fruit preserve, made from the peel of citrus fruits, sugar, and water. Many of us (including myself) are familiar with the English treat primarily because of Paddington Bear, the illustrated cartoon bear who with his old hat, battered suitcase, and duffle coat displayed a remarkable love of marmalade sandwiches. Prior to this past weekend though I had never so much as held a jar of marmalade. But when my cousin brought over a grocery sack of Florida's finest, I couldn't help but to take a peeler to them, give 'em a mashing, and start a new epicurious experience!

Here's the marmalade recipe I used. To get started you will need the following:

• 8 whole oranges, thinly sliced (4 cups cut)
• 3 whole lemons, thinly sliced (1 ½ cups cut)
• Orange juice or Water – 4 cups of either.
• Sugar – about 4 cups of dry, granulated (table) sugar
• Pectin (it's a natural product, made from apples and available at grocery stores)
• At least 1 large pot
• Large spoons and ladles
• Ball jars

The first thing to do is essentially select your fruit (including the lemons) and place them all on a towel or in a bowl. With a Tupperware brand peeler you then need to peel them all and cut out any seeds and/or bad spots. What you are left with is a bowl of naked oranges that are almost ready. First though, remove the remaining rind using your fingers, by peeling off the remaining white portion of the rind. Discard this – it is tasteless and spongy. Then slice the oranges and lemons in half. Next, slice the two halves into thin slices and then chop the slices up a bit! Remove and discard any seeds or tough parts of the orange that you find in the process. Continue to save any juice that leaks out!

You'll want to measure out the sugar at this point and combine your dry ingredients. Please follow the directions that come with the pectin, but generally, the lower sugar pectin recipes call for about 4 cups of sugar per box, and the regular pectin calls for 7 cups of sugar. Mix the dry pectin with about 1/4 cup of sugar and keep this separate from the rest of the sugar. Note: you can also add some spice at this point, if you like! I added a full tablespoon of cinnamon. Add the pectin to the fruit at this point.

Now place the chopped fruit and 4 cups of water or orange juice in a saucepan and simmer for 10 minutes. Add the sugar and return to a boil. Stir the mix and bring it to a full boil, hard, for one minute. Now fill the jars and put the lid and rings on Fill them to within 1/4 inch of the top, wipe any spilled jam off the top, seat the lid and tighten the ring around them. Then put them into the boiling water canner!

Process the jars for about 10 minutes then allow them to sit at room temperature for up to 48 hours. I haven't had much more than a spoonful or two of the marmalade, and while it makes me feel no more proper than the man in the moon, it has a great flavor and will make a fantastic housewarming gift or just small guest gift.

I am, despite conclusions you might draw from tales being told by me and about me, a fairly conventional, frugal person. I do care about the environment, reducing waste and most especially about food waste in restaurants. It is not lost on me that tough times had by me are not tough in a global sense and that I am blessed to live at a time and place where I have enough to eat, a warm place to sleep and a prospect that tomorrow is probably not going to bring changes to that. But I am also true to me, and not lunching with friends is out of the question. Here are some ways to turn restaurant leftovers into marvelous meals: 

Leftover Fries

This is truly a doggie bag solution. Leftover fries from a restaurant meal make great dog treats. I prefer to get out of the car with the bag, let the dog out in the dog play yard and have a French Fry Happy Dog Scramble. I just open the container and hurl them out. This makes me a goddess to my dog.

Many people don’t bring fries home because of the soggy-ness. If you don’t have a dog or you just really like fries, crisp them up in your George Foreman (GF) the next morning for home fries. If you have a panini maker or a GF, you can also make a nest with the fries by smooshing them together and closing the lid. A little bit of cheese, a poached egg and you have something really impressive! Just don’t look too long at the amount of grease the GF will squeeze out of them, it will only depress you.

Sweet potato fries: crisped up and served with breakfast, drizzled with maple syrup. YUM!

Mashed sweet potatoes: mix in with pancake mix. Make pancakes, serve with maple syrup with warm pecans and broiled goat cheese stuffed peaches.

Mashed Any Other Kind of Potato: mix with pancake batter and make potato pancakes – especially good if the mashed were loaded with bacon, garlic and cheese.

Disposable Garnish or Americans Order but Don’t Eat Vegetables:

You had the best of intentions when you ordered that steamed harvest mixture. You told yourself that was a healthy decision that would direct the course of your dining experience. That was until your dining companions ordered the MUCHAS GRANDES NACHO ULTIMATE SUPREMO that took three brawny bus-people to carry to your table. Now you are full. Well, don’t send that broccoli, carrot and zucchini mixture to the dumpster in shame. Take it home, take it out of the container and put it in what you are now going to call The Soup Mix Container in your freezer. Everyone in the nation should have one, in the spirit of our grandparents' victory gardens. Each time you get veggies on a plate in a restaurant and you don’t eat them, you will collect them here for future use as veggies for soup. Even if they get a little freezer burnt, it won’t matter in the soup, and if years go by and you don’t use them, at least they don’t smell and you can throw the whole container out without a mask. I also have a yard full of free-range chickens here at the farm that get very excited this time of the year when veggies get thrown their way, but I realize that is not an option for everyone. It should be, but it’s not.

No one ever seems to be able to finish one of those huge onion blossoms, either. Make sure you take whatever is left home – use it as topping on mac and cheese, mashed potatoes or other casseroles. Why buy expensive and puny canned fried onions when you have some of these in the freezer – use them in your green bean casserole. Very Delux!

Salad Doesn’t Keep

Of course it doesn’t if you keep it as salad! Leftover iceberg salad is perfect for grilled panini! If it’s got cherry tomatoes, cheese, egg, onion, carrot and salad dressing on it, it’s all you need to top a grilled ham or turkey sandwich. You don’t even need to add mayo. If it’s spinach, well, it’s spinach, and you can add it to your Soup Mix Container in the freezer or wilt in a fry pan and serve as a side with steak. Caesar salad is fantastic stuffed into a tuna salad sandwich and grilled.

Proteins Are Better The Day After

Order your steak a degree less well done than you usually do, eat the parts around the edges that came to the table the way you like it, and save the pinky center for later.  That way it won’t be overcooked when you recycle it as Eggs Benedict spiced up with salsa, hot sauce, slices of steak and creamy queso over English muffin.

Since most of the chicken you get in restaurants is breast meat, which tends to dry out when recooked, put that in the freezer for soup. I use a separate container.

Seafood? C’mon really? Leftover lobster, shrimp or crab meat? Here’s a challenge. Take home leftover shells from clams, oysters and other shellfish like lobster and shrimp. See if you can get everyone at the table to donate their flotsam and jetsam by promising them a great dinner at your house later. When you get home, put them right in the freezer and the next day, make a fish stock:

Shells, meat and bones from various Fish and Shellfish, breading, seasoning and all
1/2 cup dry white wine
1 large yellow onion, sliced or chopped
1 carrot, roughly sliced or chopped
1 celery stalk, roughly sliced or chopped
2 Tbsp tomato paste
2 sprigs of thyme
Several sprigs parsley
1 bay leaf
10-15 whole peppercorns
2 teaspoons salt

This is best made in a crockpot plugged in on your porch or garage, because it’s gonna smell fishy, and you don’t want it to boil. Crush the larger shells with a rolling pin before putting them in. When nicely reduced, strain through a double layer of clean, old nylon stocking or cheesecloth. You now have absolutely delicious broth for bisque (which never should have lumps of anything to be a true bisque) or chowder. This time you will look like a Goddess to your friends when you invite them back.

Now that you have no shame, take the bread!

The best bread pudding I ever had was made in my grandmother’s kitchen in Brisbane, Australia. A tropical climate meant shopping for perishables every day, and all bread scraps went into pudding almost every afternoon. We had it with sweet, strong tea and good conversation, an edible memory. Of course, you can take all your old bread and make bread crumbs either in a food processor or by crushing them with your handy rolling pin – great for frying, crunchy topping, thickening cassolettes or stews. This lasts best in the freezer unless the bread was very stale. Or feed it to those chickens….

Desserts

I hardly ever order dessert, so I don’t usually have it left over, but I can imagine trifles made with leftover cake and cheesecake, and fried pies and satisfying midnight forages to the old Frigidaire.

I am hoping that as this idea catches on, I see more containers brought from home pulled out right at the table. What do you do with your leftovers?

 It was electric. It was riveting. It was hot and long and jammed with people wanting their voice to be heard. The technical college in Eau Claire was inundated with supporters of the bill in committee: SB424/AB628 or in laymen's terms: the Raw Milk Bill.

Andy, Elly, Ethan and I boarded a bus in Appleton at 5:30am along with 11 other Foxwood Farm members and about 30 folks associated with Grassway Farm in New Holstein. We were in high spirits but really didn't know what to expect. As we drove, we popped in Food, Inc as a sort of inspiration for food choice.

It was a warm and rainy day for March in Wisconsin. When we arrived at the college, there were a few folks already there, but we lined up and signed in and secured our spot in the auditorium. We had been told it would seat 2000. The auditorium we walked into would be stretched to seat 200. We knew we were in trouble and it was only 9am! In the next hour before the hearing began, a few of the key raw milk farmers from the state showed up and handed out white hats with the words Freedom and Milk hand written on them.

Andy helped hand out hats and redirect people to the overflow rooms. By 10:30am, the hearing had begun, but the people kept coming. Soon we were told that the overflow rooms were full. People were coming back and packing more and more into the already crushingly tight auditorium. The college was able to open up two more rooms at 11am when classes let out, but until then, people would have to wait in the halls.

It was estimated by the Senator and Representative's aids that 6-700 people came that day. And it was estimated by the people handing out hats that one out of every 30 refused to take one. That 97% of the 600 people were in favor of the bill! And I know for a fact that several supporters just didn't want to wear it and didn't take one. So the percentage is likely higher than that, even.

As the speakers began, the committee assembled the order according to one for the bill, then one against. In this way, the testimonies would be more evenly balanced. But with a 97% majority, the arguments against the bill quickly began to sound like broken records. Every single argument against raw milk access in WI was based on the potential health hazard it may cause. Everything was based on that then some sort of variation on the fall out of said health risk. Steve Ingham, the head of DATCP spoke first along with the state Secretary of Ag, Rod Nilsestuen. The 15 elected members of the bill committee grilled those two for the better part of 40 minutes, picking apart the arguments and asking them to be honest about certain heavy handed activites against WI farmers. Several heads of health boards, the Wisconsin Veterinary Association, and some citizens in the health care industry spoke against the bill. Each one cited CDC statistics regarding raw milk sickness outbreaks in the last 20 years. Each one described the symptoms associated with certain food borne illnesses. Each one sounded more and more just like the other one. And each one was summarily asked again and again if one should then ban cigarettes, spinach, peanut butter, ground beef, steak tar tar in the interest of public safety. None of them had an adequate answer other than "raw milk has more of an inherent risk."

The people speaking for the bill were all well spoken, well researched, and whole hearted. The first family to speak was Wayne and Janet Brunner, who have been in the business for ten years. They were shut down by DATCP in October and are on the brink of losing the farm from lost income. They were our mentors and the farm we visited in 2008 to see if selling raw was really possible. We cried as we watched Wayne break down in front of the committee and everyone saying that he just didn't have the energy to fight the state anymore. He pleaded with the legislators to enact justice and change the law, or there would be one more Wisconsin dairy farm gone to history.

Another speaker was Dr. Ted Beals who was flown in from Michigan as an expert pathologist to combat all the other experts telling us that raw milk pathogens have a track record of killing us. He was brilliant in his analysis of the CDC and FDA records of raw milk outbreaks. He basically told how all the stats are skewed because they count milk destined for pasteurization along with milk destined for raw consumption (A HUGE DIFFERENCE!!)

The Milwaukee Journal Sentinal has a pretty indepth story about the hearing and even includes a photo of our very own Rita Gerhking!

http://www.jsonline.com/business/87234707.html

There were over ten hours of testimony. I couldn't possibly blog about everyone, even if we had been allowed to stay the whole time (our charter bus was leaving around 3pm). But I can bullet point some memorable speeches.

• An older woman from Madison spoke for nearly 10 whole minutes testifying as to the hypocracy of the whole banning movement; how regulators shut down her farm source for raw milk yet allowed a lot of unchecked mega dairies untouched for other law violations.

• She also pointed out that she had purchased a share in a cow; that the animal really did belong to her. But the state stepped in and said that because she was boarding the animal at a farm and was not in the business of farming, she could no longer drink milk from her own cow.

• A college student came up and said that she grew up drinking raw milk and at one point two of her seven member family became ill with food poisoning. When they were questioned by health officials as to what may have been the cause, they listed off many common foods that can cause illness. As they went down the list, the family members admitted to eating several items within the last days on that list. However, when they asked if they consumed raw milk and said Yes, the health officials stopped there and said, well, it was the raw milk. Case closed. She explained how they wouldn't listen to anything else the family said, including how everyone else drank the same milk but didn't get sick, or how the two that did get ill had played in the river the day before. When the records were filed, the illness was blamed on raw milk and NONE of the other foods that HAD BEEN eaten were even on file. Her point was that all the stats listing raw milk as the reason for sickness are likely skewed big time because health officials hear raw milk and close the case.

• *Sidenote: We know this and tell our customers to never admit to their doctors that they drink raw milk even if they are healthy. The doctors are required by LAW to find out the source and report it.

• A woman came up with her 5 year old child and had him stand on a chair. He was her visual evidence of raw milk. She told this moving story of when he was born, her milk dried up and she had to put him on formula, something she had never had to do before. He was quickly diagnosed with an allergy to the formula and had to be put on adult dosages of allergy medication (a baby only weeks old!) and a nebulizer. He threw up 30-50 times a day. They couldn't get him to respond to any medication, soy formula didn't work and he was diagnosed "Failure to thrive," one of the worst things a parent can hear. It got to the point that he had to be put in his carseat in order to be fed because he was so weak the doctors thought he would choke if he was held. At the end of themselves, the parents researched solutions their doctors wouldn't. They looked up a raw milk farmer and agonized about giving the milk to their son that was deathly allergic to milk. The wise farmer told them to start small, by giving him only a drop, and see where the threshhold was. They did. The next day they gave two drops. Soon they gave four drops. Then they were giving him an ounce, then four ounces. Before they knew it, he was drinking the milk out of a sippy cup, holding it with his own hands. And then he was a whole year old. And now he is five. Beautiful, healthy, standing as a witness in front of everyone in that room to see how NOTHING ELSE saved his life but raw milk.

There wasn't a dry eye in the place, I'm sure. The next person to get up and speak was a health official with a prepared speech. One of his first statements was that raw milk is unfit for human consumption because it carries deadly pathogens. I don't think anyone in the room, even the committee, could possibly take the poor guy seriously.

• One of our own, Danielle Boerson of Boerson Farm got up and spoke with her two year old son Henry! I have it taped here and it's worth the listen. We are so proud of her; she did so well!

• A cheese makes spoke about the bad science that is behind the pasteurization movement. She was very articulate and personable and was allowed to speak with the committee members for quite some time because they had a lot of questions for her. Honestly, I was sort of distracted during her speech, but suffice it to say, she brought to light a lot of inconsistencies within the bylaws of the current milk handling process. She also divulged that she sold raw cheeses at the Twin City's farmers market and had to sell it as cat food because un-aged raw cheese is illegal. When DATCP found out, the required her to get a pet food processor licence. She applied three times and never got the paperwork (you have to pay each time you apply). She then called the DNR and asked if there was any licensing required for make fish bait. There was not, so the raw cheeses were then sold as premium fish bait! There was nothing illegal about what she was doing, but the officials went undercover and harrassed her at the market repeatedly until she had to call in the city of St. Paul to intervene. The FDA subpeona'd her and search her cheesemaking facility for three days to investigate. They had a problem with her giving out free samples of the fish bait. She told them that in northern WI, people are very serious about their fishing and she didn't want them to spend $10 without knowing what they were getting. The committee absolutely loved her and so did the audience!

• As it neared the time for our departure, no one from our bus group had been called forward to speak yet. Andy and I were packing up our cooler (containing some raw milk for the kids!) as they read our names off as being 'on deck.' Woah, what?!

So suddenly we scrambled to scoop up our kids and testimonials, just as we heard that the speaker before us was no longer present and we were indeed UP.

I was very nervous and the kids were cranky from being hot and no naps; Andy's voice wavered and we had a few laugh moments, but overall, I think our message was pretty good. Wanna hear it? You'll have to turn up your volume. Thanks to Shelli, who video taped as I shoved the Flipcam into her hands and said, "here, record this!" then ran down the isle with Elly in my arms.

Our testimony...

Did you watch? There was a moment when I was overwhelmed and choked up near the end, but I'm thinking that was an ok thing...sort of making us more human to the legislators. And Andy did an excellent job of wrapping it up.

The day was an enormous success for raw advocates. Now it is in the hands of the committee and they have only a few weeks before the session ends in April. We are praying that the bill gets out of committee before then and can be voted on by the rest of the Senate and Assembly.

Foxwood would like to personally thank the following Members for taking a whole day off and driving to Eau Claire to make their presence known:

Katherine
Ben
Judy
Sharon
Hattie and extended family
Rita and kids
Rachel
Robin and Eli
Danielle and Henry
Benjamin and Lena, Elizabeth and Jacob
Dr. Hendrickon
Shelli
Carla and Candy
Holly and family

Thank you also to those of you who intended to go, but circumstances would not allow it.

And a special big thanks goes out to my dad, who wanted to be there, but took on the farm chores in order for Andrew and I to be there as a team. Thanks, Dad!

No boring egg sandwiches around here. This is our newest quick farm lunch favorite. We have named it “The Sleestak” for obvious reasons, instead of the eggs sizzling, they just hiss! Land of the Lost was one of my top 5 childhood television shows (right up there with H.R. Puff'N'Stuff, Lidsville and the Banana Splits). Hhhmmmm banana splits ... we need to plant some banana trees!

Sleestak Sandwich: Good crusty bread like Ciabatta, slightly toasted with a little butter and melted shredded sharp cheddar topped with heirloom tomatoes, avocado, fried Pancetta and egg. HHmmmmmmmm! Hisssssssssssssssssss!

When it comes to food and sex, we’ve allowed science to trump common sense. We’ve let this happen even while we know science has been at times savior, at other times profiteering fear-monger – think the birth control pill versus artificial aphrodisiacs, or any of the numerous “facts about nutrition” that change every year – from low-fat to good fat, or oat bran to Omega-3s, not to mention trans-fats and genetically modified crops.

Science is modern, America loves modern, and therefore science has ruled hands down. The rigors of science require extreme discipline, and we have long been proud of our abilities in that department. Discipline over pleasure is our long-standing mantra. Sacrificing pleasure is one of the foundations of American society – Puritan ideals, Protestant work ethic, Seventh-Day Adventists, Mormons, Prohibition – like everything else, we took even Christianity to extremes. Our influential American ancestors applied those principles and then used science to go even further – Kellogg, Rockefeller, Roosevelt bought into the superiority of science hook, line and sinker, especially when it came to such animalistic indulgences as food and sex. They went so far as to say meat caused masturbation, therefore we must eliminate meat. “The decline of a nation commences when gourmandizing begins,” according to Kellogg.

I consider myself a loyal gourmand, even here on the homestead. As I have said before, sacrifice has never been my forté. I am, you might say, très français, in all my appetites. People look at this lifestyle as some great sacrifice we’re making, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Going back to basics means more pleasure, not less. Time to garden, cook, read, entertain, be creative. No high-traffic commute, no 60-hour work week, no noise or air pollution. And we all know that less stress means more sex and better health for all species. Even on its worst days this lifestyle is definitely less stressful.

Of course, the tides of science are beginning to turn. Science is finally beginning to prove what many of us have known all along from good old-fashioned common sense: The Western diet and the Western lifestyle are directly linked to the Western diseases. Now the famed Dr. Oz claims an orgasm a day keeps the doctor away.

For all of its triumphs, science is often wrong. It believed it was doing the world a favor in creating the pesticides and herbicides required for monoculture farming practices, or pharmaceuticals that cause more side-effects than ailments they cure, or the hydrogen bomb.

The stern rigors of science or the passionate chaos of nature – when it comes to food and sex, I’ll second-guess science over Mother every time.

After a super busy holiday season (visit LeAnna’s Blog) for a glimpse of what we were up to), we’ve taken the sweet lull of January to reflect on the past year. Last year was the first time we ever made anything resembling resolutions. For us, it was a list of goals and dreams for the coming year, scrawled out on a steno pad and magneted, totally ignored, to our refrigerator.

While our actual goals were varied in nature, the essence of most of them was that we wanted to learn more old-fashioned skills and move toward a greater level of sustainability for our family. The good news is that even though we never checked back in with last year’s list, we actually achieved a fair number of our goals. While not everything we did was food related, it sure was a recurring theme. So here are some highlights from our year in food:

We baked all of our family’s bread.

We started making our own yogurt.

We learned to make mozzarella, ricotta cheese, and butter.

We made pizza from scratch (crust, sauce, and cheese).

We started making our own granola.

We turned half of our backyard into a garden and ate or canned the produce.

We canned tomato sauce, apple butter, pear caramel butter, huckleberries, wild blackberries, strawberry jam, marmalade, and peaches.

We made a lot of sundried tomatoes and pesto.

We froze gallons of wild blueberries.

We made really hokey apple wine.

We made our own marzipan from fresh almonds and marshmallows from scratch.

And we failed repeatedly at making an edible bagel.

Here’s a little collage of our yumminess:

Two pounds of yeast and a bunch of canning jars later, we’ve discovered that we had been duped into believing that the homemade lifestyle is far more difficult than it actually is. Rather, we found that it was not only enjoyable but empowering to take control of our family’s food, that the end-product was far better than its processed equivalents, and that spending time in the kitchen with our children was easily the highlight of the day.

You can expect more homemade updates in the future as we continue to expand our old-fashioned, made-from-scratch lifestyle. In the meantime, if any of you have a good cracker recipe, we’d sure be grateful if you’d share it!

Did you learn or try anything new this year? What are your goals for the coming year?

Great Grandma was right when she said, “You are what you eat.” Too bad she was already dead by the time most of us came along. Since then we have come to believe not in the wisdom of the ages, but in the goddess of convenience.

Real food is what the body was designed to eat: fruits and vegetables, nuts, beans, legumes and, yes, even meat. Our modern food system is attempting to trump thousands of years of evolution. How can we believe that health is sustainable with a diet from cheap fast-food chains and highly-processed TV dinners? Clearly we have been brainwashed since GG died and need to realize that chemicals do not a food make.

In Part 1, I convinced you that the topics of food and modern day digestive disorders have everything to do with homesteading. In my own experience, looking back to old world recipes has had an incredible impact on my health. I know so many who have become lactose and/or gluten intolerant, other bodies that are cholesterol-excessed, diabetes-driven, or too readily fat-absorbed. Nearly every complaint, ailment, and disease from arthritis to zits, and dare we suggest cancer too, will someday be traced back to diet, I am quite convinced. Getting back to nature has “cured” countless people of these modern diseases of the digestive system.

I am not a doctor or nutritionist or any other kind of health expert, but I do have a personal experience with several of them. I was having digestive issues for several years that seemed to be getting worse, so I did what most people do, I complained, and agonized, and made excuses, and eventually went to the doctor. A specialist actually, gastrointestinal.

But I also did what not so many people do, I went to a nutritionist as well. These two experiences were like night and day.

In the specialist’s office I waited about an hour before a nurse ushered me into another room to take my vitals and invited me to wait again for the doctor. The doctor spent about five minutes with me, and repeated back to me the same information I had just written on the form. He asked me not one single additional question about my diet or lifestyle before rattling off the long list of tests I would need before I would make an appointment to see him again. These started with extensive blood work and ended with a colonoscopy, and would take several weeks before he would see the complete results and be able to make a reasonable prognosis. I knew I couldn’t wait weeks before beginning to consider possible causes and solutions.

So I made an appointment with a holistic practitioner, a “nutritionist” as she was forced to rename herself after several legal encounters that sounded oddly similar to those malpractice issues chiropractors used to encounter so often. In her office I also waited for nearly an hour, but she immediately apologized for that, and she then took my vitals. So far not all that different from the experience at the specialist’s office, minus the 20 or so patients crowding impatiently in the specialist’s waiting room.

But that’s where things went totally different. She actually read my form and asked dozens of questions based on what I’d written. She peered at my tongue, into my eyes, and examined the beds of my fingernails. She told me on the spot what she thought was wrong with me: intolerance to both wheat and dairy. (NO! I inwardly shrieked, That can’t be!) She advised two herbal medications and told me to read the book Eat Right 4 Your Type. She suggested some simple blood tests to make sure there was nothing more serious happening. I left her office feeling informed and empowered and ready to take action, a very far cry from the irritation and confusion and general helplessness I felt when leaving the gastrointestinal specialist’s office.

I was devastated that she might be right, but thrilled that she gave me something I could try right away. I immediately checked out the book from the library and read it in two days. I started taking the herbal remedies she mentioned, and kept a food journal. I thought I could go about two days without my two favorite foods, three tops, but that was all. Life’s too short to sacrifice so much!

But within two days the symptoms that had driven me to the doctor had disappeared. That gave me the motivation to go three days, then four. She was onto something, the book was right, I felt amazing! After one month other symptoms I thought were totally unrelated also began disappearing. By the time the secretary at the gastrointestinal specialist’s office called to remind me of my follow-up visit, I laughed in her ear and said, “But I’m already CURED!”

After the first year or so of strictly following the diet laid out in Eat Right 4 Your Type, I was totally sold. According to the author, whose father had begun researching the effect of foods on different blood types during his own life, all people with Type O blood have some level of intolerance to wheat and dairy. This causes inflammation, which in turn causes many other symptoms, which in turn become diseases: arthritis, IBS, allergies, fibroids, the list goes on and on.

For me, and a lucky few, total abstinence is not required. Knowing you can still eat your favs makes a huge difference to your perceived deprivation quotient (that is of course only if you haven’t developed to “real disease” stage yet). Whenever I slip and thoroughly enjoy a baguette with Camembert, the symptoms return. But at least I now know why! That is an incredible feeling of empowerment. Just like when you overindulge in alcohol, you get a hangover; there is no mystery there, you know it will go away in a day or so. When I stop ingesting what my body considers poison, the symptoms go away.

Three years later it doesn’t feel like such a sacrifice anymore, because my health is so much better. I have found substitutes I love, and it has been a fun learning experience searching for new foods and recipes. It’s part of the reason I truly believe in the homesteading lifestyle, or any other back-to-nature ideals. The incredibly long process that takes our crops from the fields to our tables has gotten way out of control. We have seperated ourselves so completely from the process of creating our food that not only have we accepted our ignorance, but our bodies are at full-on war against us.

Processed foods rely on many of the same ingredients: wheat, dairy, corn, artificial flavor enhancers, preservatives. But we still go to the medical doctor for the issues that should be solved by a dietician, nutritionist, or natural health practitioners, because they do not require a medical doctor to prescribe yet another medication. The Food & Drug Administration combines foods and drugs for a reason. While this is logical, it is also ironic: nowadays the drug and chemical companies are making sure the foods we eat require more of the drugs they sell.

Don’t pop another pill, make your meals from scratch!

Fascinating food documentaries:
Food, Inc.
King Corn
The Future Of Food