Preserving the Harvest--A Hundred Years Ago!

I'm rereading a book that was written by a woman who was born in 1899, and lived in my area. At the time, it was extremely rural, and they would go into town several times a year to buy the things they couldn't grow or otherwise produce on their farm. The annual trip to town was a several-day affair, and because the road into town was so dusty, they would bring a change of clothes, stop at the Rest Cottage at the edge of town, and change into their Sunday best before doing their shopping. Because the trip was arduous, and because money was tight, they grew or raised most of the food and grains they and their animals would need throughout the year.

The name of the book is True Story of a Mountain Girl and Pioneer Happenings by Pearl E. Montgomery. My  copy says "Fourth Edition Printing, August, 1986."

Here is a section (found on page 13 in the book) that has the heading "Preserving Fruits, Vegetables and Meats":

"Mother canned lots of fruit. She also made big stone jars of pickles and sauerkraut. We baked light bread two or three times a week. We grew our wheat and took it to the mill most of the time. From our orchard we harvested apples, pears, four kinds of plums, prunes and cherries. Then there were strawberries, raspberries, loganberries and grapes.

"We had about two hundred and fifty gooseberry bushes and my job was to do most of the picking. We would run the berries through the grain cleaner to get the leaves out and then ready for market. I delivered all the orders around within five miles on horseback.

"In the fall we had potatoes to dig. We filled fifty to seventy-five 100-pound sacks which were stored in the cellar. There were carrots, parsnips and turnips. Dad sold turnips and fed turnips to our dairy cows.

"We dried fruit, usually around fifty pounds of pears, one hundred of prunes, twenty-five of plums, one hundred pounds of apples. After drying, Dad made apple cider in fifty gallon barrels. Ten barrels were taken to Eugene for sale. He took a load of farm products. The wagon load included two or three veal weighing three or four hundred pounds each. The veal were dressed out and the hide left on.

"It took a day to go to town, a day to trade, and a day to return home."

Interesting! I love to read true stories of local settlers, and I'm often reminded of just how little they had, and how content they were anyway. It's a good lesson for me to practice contentment in my own particular circumstances.

As my nod to days gone by, I'm canning. Yesterday I canned 7 jars of diced ham that was left over from a birthday dinner for two of my kids, and tonight I'm canning 6 jars of chicken. Since this summer, when my garden was producing it's annual bounty, I've canned more than 300 jars of food. Granted, that's not as much as in years gone by when 600 jars were more the norm for me, but I'm content.

Let the winter storms come--I can feed my family, and that's a great feeling!

Pride Goeth Before a Fall

About a week ago I bought a new toothbrush. My choice wasn't very scientific--I bought a green one because green is my favorite color, and the particular green toothbrush I ended up with was on sale, so into my cart it went.

I'm also in the throes of writing another book. My new book, due out next January, will be called What the Amish Can Teach Us About the Simple Life, and it's a practical guide chock full of homespun hints and lots of usable ideas for being more self-sufficient, even if you live in town, which 80% of North Americans now do. Did you know that most of us can keep at least a few chickens in our backyard? And in major cities like San Francisco and Chicago, it's even legal to keep a couple of milk goats. Who knew.

This week I've been working on the chapter dealing with technology, and I must admit that, being something of a Luddite, I was enjoying this chapter very much as I dispensed great ideas for lessening our use of and dependence on electronic gadgets. Obviously I'm not averse to technology like a true Luddite, but I've always been wary of getting caught up in the virtual world more than is healthy for me. Writing this entire book on simple, low-on-the-hog living has got me pretty smug, I'll admit it...

Now back to my toothbrush. All week long I've been using my new toothbrush, and it's sure been nice to have nice new bristles. Well, this morning I was brushing my teeth while contemplating my don't-use-so-much-technology-in-your-daily-life chapter. All of a sudden, my toothbrush started vibrating. Yikes! I jumped a country mile from the surprise of it all and then scrambled to find my glasses and get them on so I could see clearly what on earth was going on. Why was my toothbrush vibrating? And more to the point, how could I get it to stop?

You guessed it--my new toothbrush is battery powered. BATTERY POWERED! I had no idea. Good heavens, what will they think of next? Anyway, I figured out how to turn it off and, shaken though I was, I managed to finish my morning ablutions and get to work dressed and in my right mind. But I learned a powerful lesson this morning: before buying something, read the label carefully and make sure it's really what you're after.

A Homemade Life

I enjoy living low on the hog. I was thinking about why this is recently, and I think that even though there were always glimmers, my conscious desire to live simply really kicked in when I was in high school. And as is so often the case with me, it wasn't a perfect slide into simplicity.

My oldest sister found out that she was expecting. This baby was going to be the first grandchild/niece or nephew of the next generation. Really a big deal for our family.

I wanted to commemorate this occasion in a big way, and because I was going to be an auntie for the first time, it seemed only natural that I should do something extravagant for the wee one. Plus there were so many months yet before the babe made its appearance that doing something big was totally within reason. I had the time, so now I just needed to come up with the perfect gift.

I thought and thought and then it hit me. I would make this new little niece or nephew an heirloom to treasure for a lifetime.

I would make a quilt.

Even as a young person I admired the hardy pioneer women who had given up luxury and comfort to follow the dusty Oregon Trail to a new and (hopefully) better life--a life they fashioned with their own hands and determination. I often thought about how these pioneer ladies grew the food that fed their families, chopped the wood that heated their homes and cooked their meals, and spun the fleece that would be turned into the knitted and woven fabric used to clothe and cover their loved ones and I figured these pioneer women wouldn't be intimidated by something as easy as making a quilt surely must be, so I set about my own project.

This was before the internet was a fact of daily life, before you could Google and find out everything you ever wanted to know about, say, quilt making. Oh, I had read The Whole Earth Catalog, and books with titles like Living the Good Life and Five Acres and Independence. But I don't recall ever studying up on how to make a quilt. Still, I'd read the Little House on the Prairie series and I felt confident that I could pull this off.

I decided that I would hand piece this heirloom quilt and then--of course--hand quilt it in minute and glorious designs. I'd seen plenty of pictures of quilts and so I began.

I went to a fabric store and had the presence of mind to buy cotton fabrics, but then undid all the good that came from that decision by failing to preshrink the pieces before cutting out my design, which consisted of a bunch of 4- or 5-inch squares that were quartered into triangles. Tiny pieces.

I chose some soft greens, yellows, and light browns (this was also in the days before ultrasounds) because I thought they looked nice together and would be fitting for both a girl or a boy.

For some reason, I thought that an heirloom quality quilt absolutely had to be pieced by hand and that using a sewing machine for any part of the process would somehow make the quilt less special. So I gathered my pieces of fabric, my needles, pins, and thread and got started.

I stitched and I stitched and I stitched some more. It seemed like no matter how many hours I put into the project I was woefully short of done. Nowhere near. Not even close. The months seemed to fly by and well before I was ready, my niece was born. Thoroughly demoralized, I didn't mention the quilt-in-process I had going. I honored the birth of my sister's baby another way and then pondered what to do with this unfinished quilt.

I thought and I thought and then it hit me. I would make a miniature quilt for my little niece to use with her dollies when she was a bit older. Now I was in business--I had the quilt top done thanks to the new size requirements.

This tale is a sad one. I persevered to the end, hand quilting it, although not nearly as heavily as I had at first envisioned. And the minute, even, and perfect stitches I had dreamed about didn't materialize because the sizing was still in the fabrics since I hadn't prewashed them and sticking the needle through the layers was difficult. When it was bound and completely done, I threw the sweet little doll quilt into the washer to get it clean before I sent it off. I envisioned the look of stunned delight and joy on my sister's face when she first set eyes on the beautiful gift I'd spent hours making for her daughter. But when I pulled the quilt out of the dryer, it had shrunk up so much that the pieced squares were puckered beyond redemption.

But even though my first quilt was a disaster--and even though I've had plenty of disasters since then--I was hooked. I loved the notion of starting "from scratch" and producing something useful for my family. And that philosophy for living a homemade life is still with me.

It's what causes me to hand grind my grain to make homemade bread, to plant a vegetable garden each year and can hundreds of jars of food from the harvest. It's why I sew and wear aprons and dresses and knit warm sweaters, socks, and mittens, why I love to hang the laundry outside and let the soft breeze and warm sunshine dry my clothes for free. It's what moves me to love wood heat above all other heat--even though the wood needs to be split and the wood pile and hearth constantly need sweeping. It's why you can find me hunched near an oil lamp on long winter evenings, knitting or reading by the dim but soothing light.

The joys of learning to make do and be content with the work of my hands have brought me untold satisfaction through the years. And because I choose to live this homemade life, I'm more content (at least I like to think so) than those who believe in what the advertisers are selling, which, in a nutshell, is discontent. We don't need the latest, biggest, or "best." What we need instead is the product of the work of our hands and an attitude of thankfulness for what we do have and the philosophy of "enough."

I further believe that God instilled this self-reliant streak in me. When He plunked Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, He gave them everything they could ever want, and then He told them to tend the Garden. And because we can trace our roots back to these two folks, our DNA must include that same imperative.

And so we work and we toil. We take care of those we love and try our best to fashion--with our hearts and hands and determination--a simple life of joy for ourselves and our families. And for those of us who take the time to stop and listen, we hear God whisper in each of our hearts: tend the Garden.

May God richly bless the work of your hands!
Georgia

The Joy of a Really Big Tiller

I have a preternatural bent for doing things as low-tech as possible. And yet I'm not averse to using technology when it seems right to me. And since it's finally springtime in Oregon and I've already been bested out in the backyard, I'm glad for my flexibility.

It's early on a Saturday morning and the dew is thick on the ground outside. I've had frost the last two mornings, but today is shaping up to be gorgeous and the temps last night were well above freezing. I'll need to wait a bit yet before I can get out there and work in the yard, so I'm passing the time composing this blog post. But there's a twist:

Lantern Light on My Computer

I'm using my sturdy, efficient kerosene lantern made in the French Alps. For years I used Aladdins, but this particular lantern is better suited to me. (In fact, I gave away all my Aladdins.) For one thing, it doesn't make the hissing noise my Aladdins did, and I think it uses less lamp oil. It's also not so fussy on parts, and because there's no mantel to constantly break, I don't have to stock what always felt like a mini lantern supply shop just to keep the lights on. Also, the glass chimney sits rock solid on the base, and it's made from a sturdier glass than most. And finally, those parts not only last longer, but they are less expensive to stock. Love my lantern.

Anyway, back to my garden.

First of all, some history: I've only been in the Lilliputian cottage for three years, and when I bought this derelict little gem, the grounds--like everything else--were a mess. But I got busy, again with help from family. We weed whacked the tall weeds only to discover that the back corner of the backyard had been used as a dumping ground by the previous owners. If you have read my previous blog post about my kitchen remodel  (Vegetable Oil by the Gallon), you'll know that this was just more of the same. But while the kitchen episode had its share of humor, what with the family of racoons and all, the backyard mess was just gross.

We ended up digging down about three feet (no kidding!) and wider than that and found broken buckets, monster rocks (I reused those), kids toys that looked to be years old (but not old enough to be antiques and therefore worth something), and most of an old toilet. (One of my sons suggested we fill the toilet with dirt and plant what he insisted would be a "flower pot" in the truest sense of the word. I opted out of that plan and it went to the dump along with everything else.) After unearthing the toilet (gloves on at all times, please!), we just put our shoulders into the task and filled up an entire truckbed with junk.

But the job was done. So now nothing stood between me and the garden of my dreams. Well...yes, there was one thing. Two actually.

I had to have two major surgeries so I could walk again and be without pain, which had become so debilitating that I could barely function. There was just no way I could go on any longer pretending that I could live with my condition. It was time. So I slathered on bales of straw and bid my garden adieu for two whole years. But this was where I made a tactical error.

Instead of breaking up the individual flakes of hay and strewing them feather-light over the top of things, I carefully laid out the compressed flakes side-by-side over everything. I figured that since it would be quite a while before I'd be back in the garden, those dense flakes of hay would simply kill everything underneath, and then, over time, decompose back into the soil, leaving a beautiful, weed-free, perfectly composted bit of gardening heaven in its wake. This bit of paradise was supposed to be waiting for me this year.

Didn't happen.

Earlier this spring, I went out back determined to hand dig a spot to plant peas and early greens. I sallied forth one fine day, garden tools in hand and my post-surgical body strong and ready for work. I started digging. It took all of about two minutes for me to come to the sickening realization that I was in a world of trouble. There was just no way I'd be able to dig up an entire garden area by hand. You see, those flakes of hay that I had plunked onto the ground two summers ago had sort of cemented themselves into place. Instead of killing the weeds underneath, they had in fact provided a perfect habitat for the weeds to somehow grow up through them. They weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

What to do, what to do. I thought about this for several weeks. Time's awastin', I fretted. Summer waits for no gardener, I fussed. There's nothing I can do to change that, I fumed.

But this much I did know: I just had to have a garden. So I thought and thought. I devised any number of scenarios for getting my garden spot ready for planting. And in the end, this is what I did:

I bought a tiller.

Actually, one of my sons and I bought a used tiller together. We used my money (moms really are indispensible!), but he plans on paying me half, and I'm hopeful. When that happens, this tiller will have already (almost!) paid for itself, because this is what I did earlier today:

I'm tickled pink with my new tiller. It ate through those cement-like plates of weed-grown hay flakes like they were nothing. Even better, when I started the tiller up, it only took me two pulls to get the thing going.

Because of this new purchase I am mentally going wild. I have made plans to till up large swaths of the front yard and along the side yard too. I'm seriously considering taking out the rest of my lawn in the backyard and turning an unused spot next to the garage into my hazelnut orchard (I think I could get two trees squeezed in there).

Thanks to my new tiller, I'm this close to realizing my dream garden, at least in my imagination. Really all I need is some time and a bit of money to see things through. Time is finite, but the money is coming--just as soon as my son pays me for his half.

Hope springs eternal. Hopefully gardens do too.

Blessings to you and yours!
Georgia

The Very Best Black Beans and Rice

I know that calling the recipe I'm about to share with you "the very best black beans and rice" is a bit hochmut of me, but it's true. What makes this bean dish so incredibly delicious is the "mojo" you ladle over the top (read on for that part). So, without further ado, I'll tell you how it's done:

Put some black beans on to simmer to which you've added a bit of olive oil and water to cover. I usually throw in a piece of pork or beef (either leftover or not; if I use raw meat I brown the pieces first in the olive oil before throwing in the beans), but it's just as good with no meat. You can use broth to flavor the beans if that sounds good, but I just use water.

Cook the beans for hours...as much as 5 - 8 hours is fine because you want them to cook up thick. I usually don't have that much time, so I'm more liable to cook them for about 3 hours. Suit yourself. Cook's choice! Add water or broth as needed. Don't add salt or pepper until near the end of the cooking time.

When the beans are getting near to being done, cook up some rice. While the rice is cooking, make:

Sofrito

In a saute pan, cook in olive oil (don't be stingy with the oil) minced garlic, chopped onion, and diced tomato. Saute the mixture long enough for the flavors to release and soak into the oil. Then add them to the cooking beans. There's really no right time to add the sofrito. I've done it at the beginning, and then sometimes I've just cooked my beans plain and instead simply topped my serving of beans with it. Any way is okay.

Next you're going to make the piece de resistance:

Mojo

In a jar with a tight fitting lid (because you'll be shaking things up) add:

half orange juice, half lemon juice (I usually make about a pint's worth)
1/4 - 1/2 tsp. cumin
twice as much basil as you used for the cumin
twice as much oregano as you used for the cumin
lots of minced garlic

Unless the mojo has sat in the fridge for a day or so, the herbs--even with vigorous shaking--will tend to separate quickly and sit on top of the juices. If this happens simply mix with a spoon and scoop a spoonful out at a time.

Into your individual bowls goes first the rice, then the beans/sofrito mixture, and topped off with the mojo. I usually use about 4 tablespoons for my serving because I love the stuff, but you may want to be a bit conservative until you decide how much is right for you.

Now for the photos:

Here's the sofrito with the meat cooking:

And here's my bowl of black beans and rice right before chowing down:

Oh my goodness these are tasty! I hope you try them, and I hope you love them as much as I do. Beans are economical, filling, and nutritious, and it's my personal opinion that people these days don't eat enough beans. If you're one of those, I may just change your mind with this recipe.

Blessings to you and yours!

What to Do with Leftover Pork? Boy Do I Have the Answer!

I made a pork roast yesterday. Simmered it, covered, on the stove in a cup of milk after browing all sides in a tablespoon of butter. A little salt and pepper--that's it. It was very good. I served it with garlic bread and corn that I flavored with melted butter and a surprising amount of dill weed. I highly recommend buttered corn with dill weed. I know it sounds weird, but it's very, very tasty.

Anyway, I had a bunch of pork roast left over and didn't want to let it go to waste, so here's what I did for "linner" today:

I sliced the pork and threw it in my crockpot with some Sweet Baby Ray's Barbeque Sauce, a smidge of chipotle chili in adobo sauce, and about 1/4 cup of water. I turned it to low for about 3 hours and then took two forks and pulled apart the meat. Stirred it very so often. That was it.

Barbequed Pork, ready to eat

In the meantime, I made a small batch of kind-of coleslaw: I thinly sliced some cabbage, about 1 1/2 cups. I put in 2-ish tablespoons of apple cider vinegar, a small of amount of sugar (around a teaspoon), some salt and pepper (more pepper than salt), and a few pinches of celery seed. I spritzed it with a bit of olive oil and mixed well.

Sorta coleslaw. Very plain. But tasty.

I had some ciabatta rolls and I cut them in half, slathered both sides with mayonnaise, and baked them in the oven at 375 degrees for about 10 minutes. The mayonnaise was melted and the edges of the ciabattas were slightly browned and a bit crisp when I removed them from the oven. They had great bite to them.

I piled on the barbequed pork and topped the meat with a goodly amount of the coleslaw. Popped on the top piece of ciabatta, smashed things a bit so I could get it into my mouth, and then took a tentative bite. Oh, glory...it was so delicious! The crisp sweet tanginess of the cabbage was a perfect complement to the smokey/spicey/sweet barbequed pork. The ciabatta was chewy goodness holding it all together.

I love poking around in my fridge and pantry and coming up with something good to eat. No need to go to the store for special ingredients or follow a recipe. This is cooking at its finest--making do with what I have and enjoying the end product.

And when it turns out this good, well! It's worth writing about. Even better? I'm not as liable to forget what I did if it's written down (my very worst problem in the kitchen), so I can make this again sometime if the mood moves.

Happiness!

May the Lord richly bless you and those you love!
Georgia

An Easy and Inexpensive Baby Blanket to Make

I love to make receiving blankets for baby shower gifts as I'm a firm believer that newborns need lots of blankets. I love to use flannel fabric because it's soft and warm and washable...and I can usually pick up cute, baby-worthy yardage on sale for relatively cheap.

Currently, one of my knitting friends is expecting, and since I already knit her a baby cardigan, I thought I'd make one of my trademark flannel blankies to go along with it.

Further, I thought others might like to know how I do it so they (you!) could have a wonderful, homemade, useful baby shower gift that is sure to be loved and used. So here goes:

I buy 1 1/4 yards of cotton flannel fabric...but you can do just as well with only a yard. Wash it and dry it and then square up all four sides and making them neat, with no ravels hanging.

Next, make a rolled hem edge and pin in place so you can do the next step, which is making buttonhole stitches around the entire edge. Use number 5 or 10 crochet cotton and either a tiny crochet hook that can poke through the fabric or else a large-eyed tapestry needle to actually sew the stitching in place.

Buttonhole stitch in progress

Next I took some pink #5 crochet cotton (because that's what I had that would work for a baby girl, but I often use variegated and that comes out really nice) and single crocheted all around the edgle of the buttonhole-stitched hem. Like this:

Single crochet foundation row

Next I crocheted a scalloped border all the way around. I crocheted 3 double crochets in one stitch, skipped the next stitch, and then single crocheted in the next stitch. Keepgoing like that: Three double crochets in one stitch, skip one stitch, one single crochet in next stitch, skip one stitch, and so on. It looks like this:

Finished with scalloping on the edge!

I'm just finishing this blanket...and it's a good thing because my friend is in labor. Today is a good day!