tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31520755577861872102024-02-27T03:33:51.544-05:00Food, Literature, PhilosophyThoughts on ethical veganism, living literature, and philosophy.zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.comBlogger135125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-81951240314005279172012-03-29T10:50:00.005-04:002012-03-29T21:32:42.717-04:00200 or so pages of The Years of Rice and SaltAs I've mentioned in previous posts, I have been exploring my interest in sci-fi, and particularly the dystopian novel. This interest began for me in high school when I read books such as <i>Farenheit 451</i> and <i>1984</i>. For many years I followed other pursuits and it has only been recently that I have begun to go back to this area of interest. The book that I am reading now, <i>The Years of Rice and Salt</i> by Kim Stanley Robinson, is something of a departure for me. Although KSR is well known for his sci-fi writing, this novel would more accurately be called a speculative or alternate history. The novel consists of ten books which recount the history of the world, but a world in which the black plague wiped out almost all of the population of Europe and Asian cultures took a place of dominance instead of Western Christianity. KSR uses the concept of reincarnation to provide a sort of continuity in the novel. Each book features a reincarnated version of the same two central characters who are inextricably bound together in a karma group. This device helps to convey the arc of history that KSR builds over the course of the novel because each individual book is tightly encapsulated: the narrative begins at some point in the lives of the characters -- sometimes detailing how they met, other times not -- and ends with their deaths. The result is that the overarching revised history is left largely implied. <div>KSR finds inventive ways of restating this large theme within the episodic narratives of the individual books. For example, the third book titled "Ocean Continents" focuses on a fleet of Chinese treasure ships that have gotten lost at sea and come across an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean that has not been encountered before. The sailors, having brought small pox with them to the island, infect the islanders and end up taking a young girl with them for their return to the mainland. Kheim, one of the recurring characters wonders if they are justified in taking the girl away from her home even though this means saving her from the certain death that many of her family will face. Kheim considers the speed with which the girl, whom they call "Butterfly," adjusts to life on the ship, which parallels the reader's experience of reorienting, or adjusting, to each new life that the characters appear in. The reader is put into the paradoxical position of knowing more and less than the central characters. The reader knows more because he/she sees the broad arc of the novel, but knows less because the individual lives within each of the books is very minimally glossed. The reader is then forced into a position from which they can see the big picture, the broad historical perspective, but miss out on the intricacies of the lives of the characters presented. This contributes to KSR's purpose because the characters are in tune with reincarnation and often recognize that a single lifetime is a small aspect of the entire "life" of a soul. </div><div>The book is fascinating so far. I found it a bit jarring to read at first but it only took the first couple of transitions between historical ages and characters to catch on to the conceit of the novel. The two concepts that interest me the most in the novel are the treatment of character and the treatment of history. KSR develops a complex reimagination of history through his inventive use of "character" in a completely non-traditional way.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-42267329683795772972012-03-02T20:05:00.000-05:002012-03-02T20:05:26.212-05:00"The brittle things of March"The forecast of bad weather held us back from making a trip to the east today; after last year's hail storm (with larger-than-golf-ball-sized hail), I am more cautious. Nothing much has happened yet, but nonetheless--the day has been good for looking back over some forgotten poems.<br />
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A friend recently remarked that it's difficult to understand poetry without knowing the poet; I argued that this is not the case, and that in a good poem, there are many things to grasp hold of, make meaning from.<br />
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I first read Joseph Enzweiler's <i>A Curb in Eden</i> almost eight years ago--before I understood the work of a farmer, or began listening to the land in the same way that he does in his poems. Reading the poems now, I know that the wind and the mud aren't abstractions. However, there is still much in this simple poem that is foreign to me--and maybe this very fact is part of the reason for my enjoyment (of any poem).<br />
<br />
<br />
The Wind<br />
<br />
I've been standing here all my life<br />
by the road that day in March<br />
and never knew till now.<br />
Phone lines hold their breath.<br />
Above the neighborhood<br />
a hammer is lifted.<br />
Swifts fall silent in the chimney.<br />
Children on the lawn<br />
are blurred, their faces<br />
delicate as cups.<br />
In the market aisle<br />
a secret waits half-told.<br />
A doorknob turns.<br />
Cars intent on evening<br />
as supper cooks.<br />
Watch hands.<br />
The smell of bread.<br />
<br />
As the bus pulls away<br />
in a black roar of diesel,<br />
from its window<br />
you smile at me and wave.<br />
We are fifteen.<br />
My face is cold.<br />
The mud smells warm<br />
with spring and rotten grass.<br />
Four o'clock.<br />
The potholes shiver with rain.<br />
<br />
In glass dark and shifting,<br />
clouds rush across your face<br />
like faraway countries<br />
taking you, faster now<br />
until you are dust,<br />
a metal frame of sky.<br />
<br />
I never heard the hammer fall,<br />
a garage door shut, the eyes<br />
complete their journeys.<br />
I thought I could always find you there<br />
in the same green coat,<br />
though it's we who are the wind.<br />
<br />
I turned home past the locust trees<br />
through the broken gate.<br />
Our steel fence hissed in vines,<br />
sun glazed the pear tree.<br />
The brittle things of March<br />
filled me, and the mud<br />
on my shoes felt light.<br />
<br />
That night at supper my family<br />
ate the same in their same chairs.<br />
But for me the fish was beautiful<br />
and sweet opened with my fork.<br />
They could not see.<br />
I never spoke, though my blood<br />
was curving to the sky.zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-21234915205252215182012-02-21T23:58:00.000-05:002012-02-22T14:30:38.974-05:00Deborah Madison, You've Done It Again!<br />
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<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51RZARP38YL._SL500_AA300_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Vegetable Soups from Deborah Madison's Kitchen" border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51RZARP38YL._SL500_AA300_.jpg" /></a>I was making yet another soup from Deborah Madison's wonderful cookbook <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/076791628X?ie=UTF8&tag=debormadis-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=076791628X">Vegetable Soups</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">, when Matt commented, "She certainly likes the squash with the root vegetables." I paused and thought about the soup: it's a navy bean soup with turnips, winter squash, onions, sage, parsley, and savoy cabbage. The beans are cooked first, with onion, garlic, and other aromatics. All in all, the soup is simple, but delicious--just like many of the soups in the cookbook. It was already obvious, but on this late February day, it struck me even more--all the recipes are seasonal. The soup I was making was a classic winter soup, and the squash, sage, parsley, and turnips were all grown by me at some point; they were just waiting patiently for this moment to arrive. The onions, garlic, and cabbage could have also been obtained locally, but I've eaten through all my stores of those. </span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">If you're at all interested in vegetarian, seasonal, local cooking, I recommend that you get this book. I know it's a few years old, but it's far from being outdated. As for me, I'm looking forward to the spring soups, especially ones with the sugar snap peas...</span></i></div>
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</div>zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-31578133212066026822012-02-12T22:23:00.000-05:002012-03-06T20:49:49.960-05:00Pressure Canning Workshop<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU7y5a29MwoKb3RyNplKRns8vXwN7qTsP05bw_U6G10weXvQsS0ZGqkKjnUz4pzDGDLVrrdAD5qxd1G0Q2_LL5XACoBIAUDY2-YChvbB8PlIUxa21-HnrnHw8JMD65vMV3Y_-8v32OWmg9/s1600/IMG_1515.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU7y5a29MwoKb3RyNplKRns8vXwN7qTsP05bw_U6G10weXvQsS0ZGqkKjnUz4pzDGDLVrrdAD5qxd1G0Q2_LL5XACoBIAUDY2-YChvbB8PlIUxa21-HnrnHw8JMD65vMV3Y_-8v32OWmg9/s640/IMG_1515.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When I talk to people about canning, more than a few express a slight fear of the process; and although there are certainly dangers involved in water-bath canning, nothing terrifies people more than pressure canning. There's just something about putting up non-acidified foods and the menacing-looking pressure canner that stops people from ever trying to preserve using this method. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I, too, was </span><a href="http://foodliteraturephilosophy.blogspot.com/2011/04/pressure-canning-adventures-stock.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">once afraid</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> of the pressure canner. However, with a few practice runs I felt confident enough to can a variety of items--from stock, to soups, to corn. And my endeavors into pressure-canning have been incredibly worth-while: I have local corn to use year-round; a fulfilling dinner is minutes away with tomato or lentil soup. I have vegetable stock on-the ready for winter soup-making. Eating well is easier with a pressure-canner. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am happy to offer a workshop on pressure-canning, so those wanting to learn can do so before the bounty of spring and summer comes rolling in. During this workshop we will can vegetarian lentil soup, discuss pressure-canning methods, and talk about pressure-canning other items. The class costs </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">$35</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> (payable in advance of the class date) a</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">nd includes a print-out of basic canning instructions and the recipe, as well as a jar of the soup. Although the class is most suitable for someone already familiar with canning, I will not discourage novices from attending. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The class will be capped at <b>10</b> people; you </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">must </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">reserve your space in the workshop through purchasing a "ticket" through the PayPal link (you do not need a PayPal account to buy). Also, RSVP to </span><a href="mailto:katraese@gmail.com" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">me</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, the instructor, to let me know you're coming. Space in the workshop is not guaranteed if you have not reserved your spot. Please do not hesitate to contact me if you have any questions. I look forward to the workshop!***</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">***UPDATE***</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When announcing this workshop in the middle of February, I had no idea how busy March was going to be for me, or how many weekends I'd be working at Beardsley Farm. For now, I still plan to hold the workshop, but it will probably take place in April or May--please stay tuned for details, and don't hesitate to contact me if you're interested in taking the class!</span></div>
</div>zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-12094874018928148682012-01-31T21:43:00.001-05:002012-01-31T21:43:41.021-05:00Overwintering Peppers<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkYfmWCWNZwXnEmwICdYQfoiEy676ycvo_-GMLgdJeOeEdvWpSZwPTcmFdU7xlhFukWZZ065IrSIiqkWgJU_-CyZt_ZMIjgIcgs-CL8Fpt55KbQVnWjDIX5vK4L3ftaNRODFr6uCQMSdz9/s1600/IMG_2189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkYfmWCWNZwXnEmwICdYQfoiEy676ycvo_-GMLgdJeOeEdvWpSZwPTcmFdU7xlhFukWZZ065IrSIiqkWgJU_-CyZt_ZMIjgIcgs-CL8Fpt55KbQVnWjDIX5vK4L3ftaNRODFr6uCQMSdz9/s640/IMG_2189.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my two <a href="http://www.rocoto.com/overwintering/">Manzanos</a>. </td></tr>
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Last fall, I learned that peppers can be grown as perennials. (Daniel has <a href="http://danielaisenbrey.blogspot.com/2011/10/endless-summer.html">written</a> on this, too.) I was fascinated with the prospect of having year-round chiles, and so decided to overwinter a few plants. (And by a few, I mean about a dozen, some of which were easily three feet tall, and in 18" pots.) Since October, when I took them in, two thirds of the plants have mysteriously died. I'm not sure if it had to do with the diminishing amount of light in our house, or the constant harassment by our cats, but one by one, eight of the pepper plants withered. Perhaps it was because I was taking in someone else's plants, and giving them a kind of care they were not used to. For weeks, the death of the plants bothered me constantly; but now, I look at the four surviving plants, and am glad to see them alive, if not quite thriving.<br />
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My own personal woes aside, overwintering chiles is pretty miraculous. And even the concept seems almost familiar. So many of the people I've talked to about this have mentioned remembering--sometime, somewhere--a tiny, decorative indoor chile plant. And if it can be done with small chile plants, why not bigger ones? The key is steady fertilizing, watering, pruning, and pest control. I'm being vigilant and hope that my chile plants will make it until Spring.zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-84435766916712211392012-01-30T22:41:00.001-05:002012-01-30T22:41:37.583-05:00Yesterday's Canning Workshop<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlrGYS39nVMuvSf90N_R3oAVKA0SFlPdgkQ9VINPHZ52IYLXcZ8OEvv9BdHnd4ntxPWmbh_VP3cbzLWVdPtYsGIvMIqpN6O1V0ex0GA2-aR9YX-x5CoGO4LVFIny29UJZI-sZSAdW_ccJa/s1600/IMG_2201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlrGYS39nVMuvSf90N_R3oAVKA0SFlPdgkQ9VINPHZ52IYLXcZ8OEvv9BdHnd4ntxPWmbh_VP3cbzLWVdPtYsGIvMIqpN6O1V0ex0GA2-aR9YX-x5CoGO4LVFIny29UJZI-sZSAdW_ccJa/s640/IMG_2201.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Filling jars with white wine chile jelly.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUEYeYlCfXK6ufMA6pI4gM2ZFFzO_SefMO-XKkBFqztMPGoCVor6HkzIjWRWFkrzLNNTSF6HAYsmssmY4thh49m23j8FbMvcB7npBCINapxtSaSWFQSUGTlGAg9i1w_j2EQnKfGk9Usi8R/s1600/IMG_2204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUEYeYlCfXK6ufMA6pI4gM2ZFFzO_SefMO-XKkBFqztMPGoCVor6HkzIjWRWFkrzLNNTSF6HAYsmssmY4thh49m23j8FbMvcB7npBCINapxtSaSWFQSUGTlGAg9i1w_j2EQnKfGk9Usi8R/s640/IMG_2204.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Securing the lids and rings.</td></tr>
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Yesterday's class reminded me why I started teaching canning in the first place. The energy in the cozy and familiar <a href="http://800northfourth.com/">Birdhouse</a> kitchen was really quite empowering--everyone was interested to learn about canning, and had a lot of questions. A couple people were already familiar with the process of canning, but had questions about the specific recipes (of the mustard and chile jelly that we made) and pressure canning. All in all, I am glad that I've made a return to teaching workshops. I'll definitely have another one in February or March. Thanks, everyone, for coming, learning, and showing your support.zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-20699336944067654742012-01-24T20:55:00.000-05:002012-01-24T20:55:12.495-05:00Pie Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfo8o6UHDQ1KK4DkwPk7bJv94mfFKHkJ7d-EFtrYmouYRLKVywv0qvenXbfBwxylk4EWK6tMDy98RtTeA0X4DD40EQXa658gry9D4Q26qs6R5k5hd-JTjacd_643okqLZ3WTsDxfG0TEuL/s1600/IMG_2185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfo8o6UHDQ1KK4DkwPk7bJv94mfFKHkJ7d-EFtrYmouYRLKVywv0qvenXbfBwxylk4EWK6tMDy98RtTeA0X4DD40EQXa658gry9D4Q26qs6R5k5hd-JTjacd_643okqLZ3WTsDxfG0TEuL/s400/IMG_2185.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Two weeks ago, I became very excited about and consequently purchased a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Vegan-Pie-Sky-Out-This-World/dp/0738212741">pie book</a>. I've made pies a few times previously, and although they have always been very good, I've never gotten to be quite so enamored with pies (as enamored as others are? as enamored as I could be?). For one, I've been making simpler, less fatty pie crusts (not knowing how the fattier, flakier crusts are quite the pay-off for the effort). And then, as I said, I'd never made that many pies. The book was almost a personal challenge to make more pies, and in the ten (or so) days that I've had it, I've made two pies. The first was a maple-blueberry pie, made with blueberries that my friend Alicia and I picked in the heat of summer last year. Because I used frozen berries, the pie was a little runny, but the flavor made up for the small failure.<br />
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On Sunday, I made the maple-pecan pie you see pictured above. I'm certain that I've only had pecan pie one other time in my life, and wasn't thrilled about it then. But now! Now, I am in love with pie. Alicia helped me make this pie, and upon tasting it told me that it is not as sweet as pecan pies usually are. It's sweet in the complex combination of good sugar, molasses, and maple syrup. The pecans are good quality. The crust is also exceptional, if I may say so.<br />
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I'm sure that in the next week I'll make another pie--there's no stopping me. I've made enough cookies and cupcakes and cakes to be a little bored with them. But pie, pie is new. In the summer, I will be diligent about saving fruit for pies--it'll be a new addition to the routine. For now, I'll use what's at hand and extend the pie challenge to you; will you consider making a pie this year (or this month, or this week)?zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-10185113911139421172012-01-19T08:56:00.007-05:002012-01-19T09:46:07.211-05:00Dystopian Novels: Samuel Butler, Religion, and ErewhonI have been reading a lot of post-apocalyptic, utopian and dystopian novels over the last year. Most of the ones that I have been reading I have read in the past but wanted to take a fresher look. My interest was first sparked after I read Cormac McCarthy's <i>The Road</i>. There was something about the sparse narrative that was well suited to the horror of the story. Maybe I unfairly lump together post-apocalyptic and dys/utopian novels, but they seem to me to share a speculative nature and to, in some ways, have a similar goal of positing a world that is different from our but that looks back on and critiques ours. <div>The most recent book that I have re-read is Samuel Butler's 1872 novel <i>Erewhon</i>. I first read this book in a 19th century British literature course in my undergrad. I was not impressed with it at the time, which is one of the reasons that I wanted to return to it. I think that I may not have given the book its due when I first read it; I was not terribly interested in 19th century British novels. My interested was also re-kindled in this book after reading a passage about it in Wayne C. Booth's <i>A Rhetoric of Irony</i> in which Booth discusses the paradoxical position on the narrator regarding his stance toward religion. But I'll return to this in a moment. </div><div>Much of <i>Erewhon </i>is as I remember it. It is presented as a travelogue. The narrator travels into the unexplored interior of some continent (he does not specify), finds a civilization that has not yet been contacted by the West, lives amongst the people for a time, and then returns to England hoping to make his fortune from his experiences. One of the key differences between this discovered civilization and the one the narrator comes from is that crimes are treated as though they were diseases and vice versa (this is Butler's device to criticize what he sees as the punishment of misfortune under the guise of criminality). One element that I did not notice on that first read is Butler's criticism of religion along with these other elements. At one point Higgs, the narrator, believes that the Erewhonians are one of the lost tribes of Israel and he vows to either make a name for himself by converting this lost tribe to Christianity and thus showing himself to the be equal of the Old Testament prophets or to sell his story and then exploit the natural resources of the unknown country to his own massive profit. </div><div>Butler presents this situation less to criticize the institution of religion than what he sees as the duplicity of its adherents. Higgs plans to take full advantage of his fortuitous discovery in whatever way is most advantageous to himself. Rather than desiring to convert the Erewhonians for their own salvation, he desires to convert them for his personal fame. Add to this the fact that he would then elevate himself to the level of the most important Biblical prophets, laying bare his selfish intentions. Higgs relates this to the reader unselfconsciously; he believes that he will be praised for his initiative and business sense. </div><div>Booth writes of a critique that is more subtle but exposes Butler's ironic intention in the work. After escaping a difficult situation, Higgs says ". . .As luck would have it, providence was on my side." Booth's point is that Higgs attribute his salvation to both luck and God, clearly a contradictory statement. Booth continues to parse the semantic advantages of Butler's selection of the word "luck" over "fortune" and "providence" over "God," but the point remains. In this example, as in the one I cited above, Higgs professes a kind of piety that he seems not to actually feel. Had his beliefs been true, he would have sought to convert the Erewhonians whatever the benefit to himself and he also would have attributed his salvation to God alone. The fact that he does not -- and these are just two examples of many -- indicates that his professions and his true beliefs do not match up. </div><div>Although religion is not Butler's primary focus in this social allegory, it is an important element of the text. His method of treating religion is fairly standard in dystopian texts of this kind, however. For the critique to be effective, Higgs must remain unaware of his hypocrisy. This should, ideally, lead to the reader's questioning his or her own beliefs to determine whether or not they match up with his or her actions. </div><div><br /></div><div>Since the dystopian novel has been a fascination for me lately and because I have been thinking about them a lot, I have planned a series of posts about both utopian and dystopian literature. This may end up including some post-apocalyptic stuff, too. Coming up: some general thoughts about utopian and dystopian literature, a segment on Aldous Huxley's <i>Brave New World</i>, narrative technique in dystopian novels, and much more.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-42709572145670246652012-01-03T22:51:00.000-05:002012-01-30T22:00:37.194-05:00Mustard and Jelly Canning Workshop<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Today was probably the coldest day of the winter, so far. It was the kind of day that made me long for the scorching days of summer, many of which I spent preserving the season's fruit and vegetables. Standing in front of the stove laden with multiple steaming pots, I wished for a break; now that I am consuming the contents of all those jars, I look forward to canning again.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">The winter is certainly a good time to rest and collect ideas for the upcoming year; thus, it is a great time to learn how to can--or to practice canning--without the pressures of imminent harvest and piles upon piles of produce. Winter canning has a different, less frantic pace, and I'm very glad to be teaching a canning workshop now. During this workshop, we will make two items: a <b>garlic & lemon mustard</b> and a <b>habanero wine jelly</b>. Both of these have a complex flavor, while being relatively easy and fun to make. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">The class costs <b>$22 </b>(payable in advance of the class date) and includes a print-out of basic canning instructions and the recipes, as well as a jar of each of the items--the jelly and the mustard. The class is appropriate for any level of canning enthusiast.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">The class will take place on <b>Sunday, January 29th from 1:30-4:45</b> at <a href="http://800northfourth.com/">the Birdhouse</a> (800 North 4th Neighborhood Center). </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">The class will be capped at 12 people; you <b>must </b>reserve your space in the workshop through purchasing a "ticket" through the PayPal link (you do not need a PayPal account to buy). Also, RSVP to <a href="mailto:katraese@gmail.com" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration: none;">me</a>, the instructor, to let me know you're coming. Space in the workshop is not guaranteed if you have not reserved your spot. Please do not hesitate to contact me if you have any questions.</span>zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-18307981830061209312012-01-02T21:30:00.000-05:002012-01-02T21:30:21.414-05:00Wild Fermentation<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYXPHV-wepth5pnXnQRJYRmaCE8GAK5l-dX-ofZ-cCBpXVk6N50jQefXRe9ckexBC8W2iON9DYiKMEhmKNZmJwVC2LONkXhbTAyz6tEV45IlTmOD2D9ZhAB7QcihxhEyGFrrgyrQqJlQDs/s1600/IMG_2165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYXPHV-wepth5pnXnQRJYRmaCE8GAK5l-dX-ofZ-cCBpXVk6N50jQefXRe9ckexBC8W2iON9DYiKMEhmKNZmJwVC2LONkXhbTAyz6tEV45IlTmOD2D9ZhAB7QcihxhEyGFrrgyrQqJlQDs/s400/IMG_2165.JPG" width="322" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sandor Katz</td></tr>
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About a month ago, the <a href="http://beardsleyfarm.org/">Beardsley</a> farm team and I had the chance to attend a Local Food Summit in Nashville, TN. <a href="http://wildfermentation.com/">Sandor Katz</a> was one of the invited guests, and led a brief fermentation workshop. In addition to demonstrating the process of making a radish kraut and talking about the history of fermented products, Katz explained that we are in the midst of a very misguided cultural moment that wages war on bacteria. "In fact," he exclaimed, "much of the bacteria that surrounds is is <i>not </i>harmful!" And by creating bacteria-killing agents, we are depriving ourselves of the beneficial bacteria that help us digest food more efficiently, or fight off diseases, or reduce our bodies' toxicity. "We, more so than any of our predecessors, need to be conscious of re-populating our bodies with beneficial bacteria," Katz urged.<br />
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This is a very important perspective to foster in a time when sanitizing wipes and antibacterial soaps abound--we get so carried away with killing off microorganisms, that we forget how important they are to our well-being and survival. It was also helpful to be reminded about the plethora of different fermentation methods; as a canning enthusiast, I sometimes overlook alternative ways of food preservation. So maybe it's about time that I try making beet kvass, or something else outside of my usual repertoire...<br />
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I have had Katz's book <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Wild-Fermentation-Flavor-Nutrition-Live-Culture/dp/1931498237/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1325555248&sr=8-1">Wild Fermentation</a></i> for a year and a half--about as long as I've been seriously into the process of fermenting--and recommend it to anyone who is interested in the process of fermentation. Katz also has a forthcoming book that will be even more extensive in scope and cover fermentation practices from various cultures.<br />
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I am so very glad that I had a chance to meet Sandor Katz and hear him talk about the subject he is so passionate about. Here's to a new year full of beneficial microorganisms!zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-76788902252249343822011-10-03T19:31:00.005-04:002011-10-03T19:49:40.175-04:00An experiment in student engagementI presented an extra credit opportunity to my class today to try to entice their interest in the analysis of poetry. The assignment runs like this: they select from a list of songs that I provide them to prepare a presentation for the class in which they get to play the song and then give an analysis of one verse and chorus using the various poetic elements that we've been discussing in class. This isn't so out of the ordinary, I've heard of other instructors using this method in class, particularly for lower-level courses (mine is a freshman writing course with an emphasis on literature). To make this interesting for myself as well as my students, I've selected songs that I like and I want to hear in class. Here are the songs I've chosen:<div><br /><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"A New England," and "To Have and Have Not" by Billy Bragg,</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Career Opportunities" by the Clash,</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"99 Problems" by Jay-Z,</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"There is a Light that Never Goes Out" by the Smiths,</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"I Hung My Head" by Johnny Cash,</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Don't Worry about the Government" by Talking Heads,</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"A Fond Farewell" by Elliott Smith,</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Hang Down Your Head" by Tom Waits,</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"She's Lost Control" by Joy Division, and </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Wave of Mutilation" by Pixies.</div><div><br /></div><div>My criteria for choosing these was that they must have a distinct verse and chorus (to provide structural variation), could not be too repetitive (this alone ruled out much of Joy Division's catalogue and all of the Ramones), could not be too esoteric that the song could not be found free somewhere online, and, if possible, I went for better known songs by the band if it met other requirements. I wanted to include more hip hop, but was a little embarrassed by how dated my collection is, which is odd considering I have no problem at all including Bragg, the Clash, Joy Division, and the Smiths. I've already made a playlist of these songs and find that they hang together quite well. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>My goal is that my students will gain an appreciation for the broader applicability of the analytic methods we've been practicing in class and be able to recognize the poetry that surrounds them. Maybe they'll find some new music they like as a bonus. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-33663059649809087012011-09-14T21:24:00.000-04:002011-09-14T21:24:24.348-04:00Fallow<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIy_fV_l3BNLDEXHmNsjDTIhKBmp98OU4x3s2egoWnkypR0sn8vGl2uHdtZGX-19hKaMea6bVb2HAq1z1FkDIQFnMILOebcYHUl1f-l-rjP3ZwjNDx7Uc4nVLHcujWKJ2v1vAltK6gaFbJ/s1600/IMG_2099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIy_fV_l3BNLDEXHmNsjDTIhKBmp98OU4x3s2egoWnkypR0sn8vGl2uHdtZGX-19hKaMea6bVb2HAq1z1FkDIQFnMILOebcYHUl1f-l-rjP3ZwjNDx7Uc4nVLHcujWKJ2v1vAltK6gaFbJ/s640/IMG_2099.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Transplanting brassicas.</td></tr>
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This year, I've devoted quite a bit of time and effort cultivating my online presence (although not lately). I've posted to this blog frequently, made connections with like-minded people, and kept up some great conversations. And for the most part, I've been missing lately.<br />
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Part of the reason for my absence is the (physically and emotionally demanding) full-time job at <a href="http://beardsleyfarm.org/">Beardsley Farm</a>. I like what Beardsley does for the Knoxville community and I'm glad to be there.<br />
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This summer, I started visiting and working (volunteering time) at the farm where we've been getting our CSA for the last three years. Most recently, I've also put in a couple of days of work at another <a href="http://foodliteraturephilosophy.blogspot.com/2011/09/sudden-red.html">farm</a>, working with Jim and his hot peppers. My time at the first farm started a change in me, and I'm not sure what to call it yet. It's a different awareness of farmers and their work, but that's not all. Being at both farms makes me exuberant and incredibly sad. I am so glad to have the chance to spend time with such hard-working and earnest people, but I hate to see them almost constantly so behind in their work. Jim, especially (because he tends his farm alone), tends to get discouraged. And all this has started affecting me personally--I want them to succeed, to be appreciated. More than anything, I want to help them. And for now, this means going to lend them my hands, my younger and less-tired body.<br />
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I hope you understand. I may not be around online as much. I may not offer canning classes for a little while. Please understand that I'm trying to put in effort where I think it'll count most.zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-52739910099257432852011-09-07T21:52:00.000-04:002011-09-07T21:52:11.711-04:00Sudden, red.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdmYxFb3QLYoJGpkpXKlYOhyd5yjMF-V-L4RKZHcofPDGKYAqOUq9K8e_TPJ6Ibf0mbpddWQ80zvykLt_FywNsVAtiZvHjSZzETW6Pj4bJ-XsitJEPHc3SDuEqmYlPWUu-FDf62gSwtuaM/s1600/IMG_2103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdmYxFb3QLYoJGpkpXKlYOhyd5yjMF-V-L4RKZHcofPDGKYAqOUq9K8e_TPJ6Ibf0mbpddWQ80zvykLt_FywNsVAtiZvHjSZzETW6Pj4bJ-XsitJEPHc3SDuEqmYlPWUu-FDf62gSwtuaM/s640/IMG_2103.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Karina, Jim with his fermented <a href="http://foodliteraturephilosophy.blogspot.com/2011/08/tennessee-cherry-pepper.html">Tennessee Cherry</a> peppers, and Sarah</td></tr>
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This past Monday a group of AmeriCorps volunteers and I visited Jim Smith; because it was continuously rainy, we ended up helping Jim take care of things inside the house, rather than helping him on the farm. We readied peppers for the dehydrator and learned about their various flavors and uses. Jim has had a difficult few years, as he is operating the farm alone. Nevertheless, he keeps going.<br />
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What I love about this picture is that while the women are working, Jim has opened a large jar of fermenting Tennessee Cherry peppers, and is smelling a spoonful of the spicy brine. It makes me think of a Robert Hass poem from <i>Time and Materials</i>.<br />
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The Problem Of Describing Color<br />
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If I said--remembering in summer,<br />
The cardinal's sudden smudge of red<br />
In the bare gray winter woods--<br />
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If I said, red ribbon on the cocked straw hat<br />
Of the girl with pooched-out lips<br />
Dangling a wiry lapdog<br />
In the painting by Renoir--<br />
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If I said fire, if I said blood welling form a cut--<br />
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Or flecks of poppy in the tar-grass scented summer air<br />
On a wind-struck hillside outside Fano--<br />
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If I said, her one red earring tugging at her silky lobe,<br />
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If she tells fortunes with a deck of fallen leaves<br />
Until it comes out right--<br />
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Rouged nipple, mouth--<br />
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(How could you not love a woman<br />
Who cheats at the Tarot?)<br />
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Red, I said. Sudden, red.zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-50255994048254794422011-09-01T06:58:00.000-04:002011-09-01T07:02:35.315-04:00Saving Seeds<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNH74k1NYVybIG1DzW2IkLp_B0rzqBei7lWn_FDZi3pxDWM9nXF84kNwW54aVMCVxVepnyTVKE1kp-2t9AfOQk5NQHYu-8qxg_YLMV9l22aizyG-nAj_GaCgYPXsS9-g6vi2t-s6YAUEu0/s1600/IMG_2079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNH74k1NYVybIG1DzW2IkLp_B0rzqBei7lWn_FDZi3pxDWM9nXF84kNwW54aVMCVxVepnyTVKE1kp-2t9AfOQk5NQHYu-8qxg_YLMV9l22aizyG-nAj_GaCgYPXsS9-g6vi2t-s6YAUEu0/s400/IMG_2079.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Daniel, saving seeds from an over-ripe zucchini.</td></tr>
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I've posted about saving seeds a few times already--<a href="http://foodliteraturephilosophy.blogspot.com/2011/03/urban-land-scouts-saving-seeds.html">here</a>, <a href="http://foodliteraturephilosophy.blogspot.com/2011/05/urban-land-scouts-saving-seeds-with.html">here</a>, and again in my <a href="http://foodliteraturephilosophy.blogspot.com/2011/08/new-beginnings.html">most recent</a> post. The thing is, all of those posts are fairly general, or focus on a specific event, rather than the specific action of saving seeds. I feel very strongly about saving seeds, even though I'm fairly new to it. There's something autonomous about the action--yes, there are great seed companies out there, and I have written in praise of a couple <a href="http://www.etsy.com/">Etsy</a> seed sellers; nonetheless, saving seeds is a logical step in the cycle of growing. When I save seeds, it allows me to get to know the plant better. I learn to look at the fruit/plant health not just in terms of what will be useful for eating, but also in terms of quality of seed. Sometimes we forget that plants are not only food producers, but also self-perpetuators. Also, saving the seeds from something usually yields a lot more seeds than are usually in a seed packet.<br />
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Before beginning to save seeds, it is important to know whether the plant you wish to save from is an heirloom (or open-pollinated) or hybrid. Heirloom and open-pollinated plants produce seeds that will re-create the plant variety true to type. So if you have a Cherokee Purple tomato and save seeds from it, the seeds will grow into a Cherokee Purple when planted. Hybrid plants, although often seemingly strong and perfect, will produce seeds that will not have the complete genetic information from the plant; when planted, seeds from hybrid plants will often make a plant that reverts to the characteristics of one of the parent plants. For example, if you save seeds from a SunGold tomato and plant them, you may have a couple plants that are scrawny, a few plants that produce tomatoes quite unlike the SunGold (too small, and probably not very sweet), etc. When I was saving seeds last year, I didn't know about this, and saved a lot of SunGold seeds. Most of the plants from those seeds weren't strong enough to survive hardening off, and once I realized that I'd planted a hybrid, I got rid of the remaining 2 plants, not wanting to nurture a plant that would later disappoint me. </div>
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Once you know that the plant is open-pollinated or heirloom, you can proceed to saving seeds. Last year, I saved the seeds of sweet peppers and squash, seeds that I'd usually discard. (I later learned that squash cross-pollinates very easily, but not until I grew some strange--but edible--mystery squash.) So far, at Beardsley Farm we have saved the seeds of okra, zucchini, cucumber, and sunflowers. All of these have very evident seeds that are easy to save. All that it took to save the seeds was cutting or splitting the vegetable and taking out the seeds. We had to dry the seeds of the cucurbits, but the okra and sunflower seeds were already dry, so all we had to do was collect them. Also, you should select the seeds from the most ripe and most perfect fruit. If you have seen the seeds of a plant (during planting time), you know what they should look like as you collect them. For example, okra seeds are dark greenish-black, whereas in edible young okra, the seeds are white; as the okra pods mature and become too tough to eat, the seeds mature, too. Finally, when the okra pods dry out, the seeds are ready for saving. This process is similar with cucurbits--wait until they are ripe (for cucumbers and summer squash, they should be ripe beyond what is acceptable for eating), and then collect seeds, drying them out as necessary. Saving tomato seeds is a little more involved, but there are <a href="http://faq.gardenweb.com/faq/lists/seedsave/2002084456024410.html">resources</a> out there to help you with that, too. </div>
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Once you have saved the seeds, make sure they are dry and ready for storage. I've been storing my seeds in small jars or paper envelopes. The very things a seed needs to germinate--light, water, soil--are the opposite of what a seed needs to remain dormant. Saved seeds need dark, cool, and dry storage areas. </div>
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I wish I could write more about saving seeds; I have become quite passionate about it. I try to save many different kinds of seeds--just earlier in the week, I plucked a dried out marigold flower, and saved the seeds from it. There's something wonderful about noticing the cycle of plants and helping them continue it. Keep an eye open for a local seed swap near you, and start collecting seeds to trade with others.</div>
zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-48636962766888563782011-08-24T22:31:00.000-04:002011-08-24T22:31:50.356-04:00New Beginnings<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzg9hJ3F63QZbuWupg2zixmHd5f7f-xtxANMGJUWFCDgeWxVf0yXzGV-WUHNc1BrPhR-HE2K89zHEMCc8atyHUpa9CnQmJpw9mbwOqSfv0AP9EshF-_n9p0J1YRSnsUhPUtfEwNOF21HPS/s1600/IMG_2073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzg9hJ3F63QZbuWupg2zixmHd5f7f-xtxANMGJUWFCDgeWxVf0yXzGV-WUHNc1BrPhR-HE2K89zHEMCc8atyHUpa9CnQmJpw9mbwOqSfv0AP9EshF-_n9p0J1YRSnsUhPUtfEwNOF21HPS/s640/IMG_2073.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saving seeds.</td></tr>
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Today was my second day at CAC Beardsley Farm, and as completely exhausted as I am I wanted to express how excited I am to be working there. I've been a volunteer there for over a year, and very shortly after I began visiting the urban demonstration farm I became interested in working there full-time.
<br />
Today, we watered all the vegetables; harvested tomatoes and okra; cleaned up around the farm; cleared an unused community garden plot; and wound down the day by saving seeds from okra and an over-ripe zucchini. Every day, I plan to learn more about the community, gardening, and my own strengths. I am also glad to be sharing my experiences with you. Thank you for your (implicit and explicit) support.zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-2492192431196080762011-08-21T16:59:00.000-04:002011-08-21T17:00:49.232-04:00Time's Viscid Pawprint<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinuL3033FTwMj4gPjnb7hSNze7Ub-YFLlmhCg2xzJDemcMe2mhqLK2IZExO_-f7G8lQDuv40v3PCXghhjHN-Qnjy2LgN5SVjZV-mKGKoY8HA3CIw0v2HJ0LxMeuAlTaioHPK5cqW4Rh9CS/s1600/IMG_1588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinuL3033FTwMj4gPjnb7hSNze7Ub-YFLlmhCg2xzJDemcMe2mhqLK2IZExO_-f7G8lQDuv40v3PCXghhjHN-Qnjy2LgN5SVjZV-mKGKoY8HA3CIw0v2HJ0LxMeuAlTaioHPK5cqW4Rh9CS/s640/IMG_1588.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jars of beans from <a href="http://foodliteraturephilosophy.blogspot.com/2011/05/urban-land-scouts-saving-seeds-with.html">John Coykendall</a>'s visit.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This past week I began the orientation for my new job at <a href="http://beardsleyfarm.org/">Beardlsey Farm</a>. It has been some time since so much was asked from me, in terms of time; not having a steady job this summer has had its drawbacks, but I have been happy to have the time to do anything that I wanted--canning, spending time with farmers, gardening. At this point of transition, I feel uncertain, stretched a little thin. As a result, I've been uneasy, agitated. In this time of change, I want to remind myself to pay attention to the things at hand, the everyday objects, which can be good anchors. In this, I couldn't <i>not</i> be reminded of Robert Pinsky's chapbook <i>First Things to Hand</i>. I'll share this poem with you.<br />
<br />
3. Glass<br />
<br />
Waterlike, with a little water<br />
Still visible swirled in the bottom:<br />
<br />
Earth changed by fire,<br />
Shaped by breath or pressure.<br />
<br />
Seemingly solid, a liquid<br />
Sagging over centuries<br />
As in the rippled panes<br />
Of old buildings, Time's<br />
Viscid pawprint.<br />
<br />
Nearly invisible.<br />
Tumbler. Distorting,<br />
Breakable--the splinters<br />
Can draw blood.<br />
<br />
Craft of the glazier.<br />
Ancestral totem substance:<br />
My one grandfather<br />
Washing store windows<br />
With squeegee and bucket,<br />
The other serving amber<br />
Whiskey and clear gin over the counter,<br />
His son my father<br />
An optician, beveling lenses<br />
On a stone wheel. The water<br />
Dripping to cool the wheel<br />
Fell milky in a pale<br />
Sludge underneath the bench<br />
Into a galvanized bucket<br />
It was my job to empty,<br />
Sloshing the ponderous<br />
Blank mud into the toilet.<br />
<br />
Obsidian, uncrystallized silicate.<br />
<br />
Unstainable or stained.<br />
Mirror glass, hour glass, dust:<br />
Delicate, durable measure.zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-42433765044746372002011-08-11T23:17:00.007-04:002011-08-12T00:08:28.691-04:00Why I can't read The Pale King right nowThis story goes back a month and a half and it also goes back six years. The different time-spans will become apparent in just a moment. This story is about David Foster Wallace and his posthumously published but incomplete novel <span style="font-style:italic;">The Pale King</span>. Kat bought me a copy of this last novel for my birthday when we were in Louisville and it has sat on my shelf since then. Had this been a completed novel, I would have begun reading it almost immediately, but there is something about attempting to read this incomplete novel that has been bothering me.
<br />This part goes back six years when a friend of mine suggested that I read Wallace. Not knowing where to begin, I picked up a copy of <span style="font-style:italic;">Oblivion</span>, his most recent collection of short stories at the time. The first story, "Mr. Squishy," put me off completely and I couldn't even get through the whole thing. The story includes, in part, an intensely detailed description of a focus group and the products under review. The density of detail threw me because I had not read anything like it before. I didn't realize until much later when I reread the story that the alienation I felt was purposeful -- the obsessive attention to detail in the story parallels the narrator's unhealthy obsession with retail snack-cakes and presages his eventual hostile actions. It was more than a year before I picked up <span style="font-style:italic;">Infinite Jest</span> and I found more of the same in that novel. I found it dense beyond belief and a little knowing -- precious, in a word.
<br />The thing rubbed me the wrong way from start to finish from its incredible depth of irony to the extensive use of end notes, but I stuck it out and read the whole thing. I was alternately bored and frustrated by it, but I kept thinking about it. In fact, I kept thinking about it for more than a year, much longer than I would expect to think about a book I thought I didn't like. Then I reread it and changed my thinking completely about it. The characters I had found so annoying the first time around became vivid and struck me as true representations of flawed individuals this time around. The timeline, built so heavily upon what I thought were dull, scatological jokes struck me as trenchant social criticisms. In short, I fell in love with the work. To this day -- after rereading the novel another half-dozen times -- <span style="font-style:italic;">Infinite Jest</span> has become one of my favorite novels of all time.
<br />This contributes to the trepidation I feel about reading <span style="font-style:italic;">The Pale King</span>. Even DFW's other works, which I hadn't particularly liked, have resonated with me more since reading <span style="font-style:italic;">Infinite Jest</span>. It is because that novel means so much that I can't read <span style="font-style:italic;">The Pale King</span> right now. My fear is that, because it is a partial novel, it will be mediocre -- it won't live up to the other works. This, of course, would be disappointing. The greater fear I have is that it will be brilliant, even in its incomplete state. I fear reading this fragment and recognizing in it the greatness of his previous work, knowing that it will never be complete.
<br />The last novel by David Foster Wallace will have to sit on my shelf a while longer, until I'm ready to see it. Or at least until my curiosity outweighs my trepidation. It has more value for me as a metaphor for the cut-off life of its author -- I'm content to leave it at that for now.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-80483514030509024062011-08-10T23:27:00.004-04:002011-08-10T23:29:08.748-04:00Simple Summer Dinner<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZoxsUhTlb6hAh7IfmFHNQn3PlEINx7jkYhX-Q9zeAs9LdvWIJlKEONomGVaN-6-NtdVMw32PqT9h8yUiWkSfkg0hutf3G4_1ol4jwr5jz0ABeIs4exFw2kf4Ft7d9In78BrbwzUMFFFC/s1600/IMG_2027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZoxsUhTlb6hAh7IfmFHNQn3PlEINx7jkYhX-Q9zeAs9LdvWIJlKEONomGVaN-6-NtdVMw32PqT9h8yUiWkSfkg0hutf3G4_1ol4jwr5jz0ABeIs4exFw2kf4Ft7d9In78BrbwzUMFFFC/s640/IMG_2027.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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Summer produce continues to roll in--from the markets, from friends, from my own small <a href="http://foodliteraturephilosophy.blogspot.com/2011/07/garden-returns.html">garden</a>. It occupies the refrigerator, counters, stockpots... And as much frenzy as there is to preserve the vegetables so abundant now, I like to remember to eat well in the present moment, too. </div>
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A couple days ago, when I was canning tomatoes, I briefly reached a point where I thought it was impossible for me to fill another jar--ever. I was suddenly (and momentarily) tired of canning. I couldn't bear another moment of the canner humidifying the whole kitchen. Luckily, the moment passed once I started thinking about the (delayed) gratification of eating the things I was canning, and I was content once again. But that little frantic moment also reminded me that it's not <i>all</i> about the later--the putting away into jars; it's also about the <i>now</i>. Even a simple dinner of whole-wheat spaghetti topped with squash, tomatoes, greens, broccoli; and a side of tender green beans should have its place of respect. I remember that when I was eating this particular dinner (a couple weeks ago), I told myself that if I ever complain about the heat of summer, or any such thing, I should remember dinners such as this: fresh and vibrant with the produce so recently obtained from market. I took a picture of it to remind myself of the pleasures of the present moments, and thought I'd remind you, too. Even if you're not canning this season, take a minute to notice the great food available now--and savor it.</div>
zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-67155411394006290362011-08-08T16:31:00.004-04:002011-08-08T17:45:20.088-04:00Tennessee Cherry Pepper<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij5hU2RrLizLKoYeX2wAQOqgrMZoqQR0s8M9S8ONC_2XVLpJAv6I9DPYEtmd_psrWlvRocyY3AudfQRjKwm_I_gakXvvIglYkmejEX609Wi-cu4wK0AcTfL1hsVO4TfisErzPfZL8B-pXw/s1600/IMG_2040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij5hU2RrLizLKoYeX2wAQOqgrMZoqQR0s8M9S8ONC_2XVLpJAv6I9DPYEtmd_psrWlvRocyY3AudfQRjKwm_I_gakXvvIglYkmejEX609Wi-cu4wK0AcTfL1hsVO4TfisErzPfZL8B-pXw/s640/IMG_2040.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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I've been taking the Tennessee Cherry pepper for granted. What I mean is--even though I dedicated a post to the <a href="http://foodliteraturephilosophy.blogspot.com/2011/03/fermented-pepper-hot-sauce.html">hot sauce</a> that we've been making with these fermented peppers, there was little discussion about the peppers themselves. I just thought <i>everyone</i> could visit their respective farmers markets, and get a handful or two of Tennessee Cherries. Or, surely, this was a pepper variety that was common in Tennessee, right? The more I talked with the farmer who was selling these tiny, intense peppers, the more I began to understand that he had created the peppers. One day, he explained that the bright red peppers I was purchasing that particular day weren't quite the Tennessee Cherry peppers, yet; they were what he called the "Tennessee Cherry, Jr.," or a plant that had reverted to the characteristics of the true Cherry pepper's predecessors. The Jr. pepper is a little bigger and not quite as smooth as the Tennessee Cherries I'd bought last October. Jim, the farmer, assured me that by next year, he'd have a true, open-pollinated Tennessee Cherry Pepper.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD5zyePBIuc6AbH8wtv8MtEnpDZ97oWg2eKQEqgVqddKmtCXL_0xw7TzX2Nfc1SF2JqgY-OxRA06rk63T3lMr7_Vw9f2AKfSx2xM62YrR1fshxHl2ZprRO60APaM8v0ZZDqUkkBvHCWoUn/s1600/IMG_2044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD5zyePBIuc6AbH8wtv8MtEnpDZ97oWg2eKQEqgVqddKmtCXL_0xw7TzX2Nfc1SF2JqgY-OxRA06rk63T3lMr7_Vw9f2AKfSx2xM62YrR1fshxHl2ZprRO60APaM8v0ZZDqUkkBvHCWoUn/s640/IMG_2044.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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It's a little difficult to tell, but most of these peppers are smaller than a dime, and some are as small as a single elder-berry. They are very fleshy and seedy when cut, and pungent. The true Tennessee Cherry is more regularly ovoid, and the size of a pinto bean, or even a little smaller. I've never tried to eat the peppers raw, but they are quite spicy--spicier, I'd say, than a habanero; it may be even spicier than a Scotch bonnet, although I can't be sure. Jim actually grows all of those peppers, as well as the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bhut_Jolokia_chili_pepper">Bhut Jolokia</a> chili pepper. </div>
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I <i>have </i>used the Tennessee cherries in a salsa, and it's just about the spiciest salsa that I've ever made. As I mentioned earlier, I've also fermented the peppers to make hot sauce; the sauce is similar to the one that Jim sells at Market. He recommended that I ferment the peppers in brine made with salt and a sweet white wine (for 2 months), and blend with rice vinegar to make the final sauce. Once fermented, I blend only about a quarter cup of the peppers with 3 to 4 cups of vinegar and a pinch of salt; the resulting sauce is relatively thin, but tolerably spicy to us, and quite flavorful (we use a bottle with a pipette to apply it to our food). The flavor that comes through is a little peachy, and a little dusty, but not unpleasantly so. The fermentation and the mild vinegar give the hot sauce a nicely sour complexion without overwhelming the flavors of the peppers. </div>
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I'm sighing a little as I write this--I think I'm a little bit in love with these fierce, tiny peppers. The flavor and intensity is one thing, but over the course of purchasing these peppers, I have developed a great respect for the farmer who grows them. I am so glad to know him, talk to him, and to be able to support his efforts in whatever small way that I can. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiSoLVjZPVpj3mooG7PJ42hfvlLPLMzVGrZZZvaMuJUrPaelifoBOREWi9HiPJm94848LfPdvVbMt4c19yb3IaqOAL0Av5m8e7ARbyUneci962Swy8yNSB3F8BYSySibRAzCBHhINp8Ndw/s1600/IMG_2058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiSoLVjZPVpj3mooG7PJ42hfvlLPLMzVGrZZZvaMuJUrPaelifoBOREWi9HiPJm94848LfPdvVbMt4c19yb3IaqOAL0Av5m8e7ARbyUneci962Swy8yNSB3F8BYSySibRAzCBHhINp8Ndw/s640/IMG_2058.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bottle of hot sauce and more peppers fermenting for the next batch.</td></tr>
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zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-68609061310432012762011-07-28T20:09:00.003-04:002011-07-29T00:05:07.148-04:00Cucumber-Jalapeño Tequila and the Margarita Made with It<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOCr3lnOXkM80LI-PWj6VamBKmevGHYdXBr_2_r1XbopVL5cAVzWPQ5sOWBXpJdn_j4qNqYoobYOT4qRWZRM1I-tnhVsR5jweymGz2aFH_Ris4bJLKGbvEADfPaUENssQ3QneIbGBhnlBD/s1600/IMG_2021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="528" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOCr3lnOXkM80LI-PWj6VamBKmevGHYdXBr_2_r1XbopVL5cAVzWPQ5sOWBXpJdn_j4qNqYoobYOT4qRWZRM1I-tnhVsR5jweymGz2aFH_Ris4bJLKGbvEADfPaUENssQ3QneIbGBhnlBD/s640/IMG_2021.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
The cucumber-jalapeño tequila idea is <a href="http://www.mockingbird-events.com/2011/06/22/updated-public-house-menus/">not original</a> to me. There's a relatively new (and wonderful) bar in town--the <a href="http://www.knoxpublichouse.com/">Public House</a>--that serves chilled shots of the very same (except with tequila blanco). And of course, I got hooked on this wonderfully-infused liquor. I order it even on the hottest days, just to feel the smooth, cool cucumber flavor, almost immediately followed by a not-unbearable heat of the jalapeño. It is a refreshing and brazen drink, albeit expensive. Ever since first tasting this tequila, I swore to make it myself--once I'd grown my own cucumbers and jalapeños. I have only had this particular tequila straight up, and have been wondering what it would be like to experiment with mixed drinks (but lacked the money to ask the Public House bartenders to make me some). And now, months after first trying the spicy tequila, I'm happy to say that my two lonely cucumber vines have produced a few cucumbers, and my two lonely jalapeño plants have produced a couple peppers. Here is what you should do <i>right now</i> if you have a cucumber, a jalapeño, and a bottle of tequila: infuse the tequila!<br />
<br />
Ingredients:<br />
-1 liter of mid-range tequila (I used <a href="http://www.tequila.net/tequila-reviews/reposados/30-30-tequila-reposado.html">30-30 Tequila Reposado</a>, but you can use anything you like)<br />
-1 medium (5-6 inch) cucumber, quartered longways<br />
-1 small/medium jalapeño, also quartered longways<br />
<br />
Method:<br />
1. Pour tequila into a half-gallon jar, or split up between two quart jars. (Save the bottle.)<br />
2. Add the cucumber and jalapeño (or split up evenly between whatever jars you're using)<br />
3. Put in a cool, dark place for 4-6 days. I'd recommend that you taste the tequila as it's infusing--I like a spicier infusion, so I let it sit for 6 days. If you'd like it more mild, you could probably let it sit for as few as 3 days.<br />
4. Strain the tequila into the original bottle (or just fish out the cucumber and jalapeño pieces) or a vessel of your choice; discard (or compost) the cucumber and pepper.<br />
5. Serve thoroughly chilled, or make margaritas (see suggested recipe below).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7zWMKn3Ubnk_Yj_Hkf8HPt_Y-k9HQqm5y6x0SU3YKlogtdCYUgvuyludHRmQvqhmJaHMI_gZXao1NofX1z8kTJ7EG4LyeNW5OLnrxhAXANNr81NFdbR2s0WocectmKWIq-guDIEj_F1b/s1600/IMG_2030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7zWMKn3Ubnk_Yj_Hkf8HPt_Y-k9HQqm5y6x0SU3YKlogtdCYUgvuyludHRmQvqhmJaHMI_gZXao1NofX1z8kTJ7EG4LyeNW5OLnrxhAXANNr81NFdbR2s0WocectmKWIq-guDIEj_F1b/s640/IMG_2030.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Using shot glasses to measure; one is orange liqueur, the other is half lime juice/half agave syrup.</td></tr>
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<b>Cucumber Margaritas</b> (with cucumber-jalapeño tequila)--serves 2<br />
<br />
-2 small/medium cucumbers, peeled and rough-chopped<br />
-4 ounces of tequila (cucumber-jalapeño infused tequila, in this case)<br />
-1 ounce <a href="http://foodliteraturephilosophy.blogspot.com/2011/02/liquors-continued-home-made-orange.html">orange liqueur</a>/triple sec<br />
-1/2 ounce lime juice (or juice of half a lime, approximately)<br />
-1/2 ounce agave syrup<br />
-pinch of salt<br />
-a few ice cubes<br />
<br />
Combine all ingredients in a blender, blend until the cucumbers and ice are fully-incorporated, and serve.<br />
<br />
I did not salt the rims of the glasses because I thought that salt would overwhelm the delicate flavors, rather than contrast with them (as is the case with sweeter margaritas). You can do as you wish. The margarita is a little frothy, but I don't mind; if you do, you could use fresh cucumber juice to substitute for the whole cucumbers. If you're wary of using cucumbers, you could substitute with the flesh of watermelon or cantaloupe (if you're using those, consider omitting the agave syrup). I'm definitely not through playing around with this infused tequila; please let me know what drinks you come up with, if you decide to infuse your own.<br />
<br />
I have to say that in addition to being inspired by the ingenious cucumber-jalapeño infused tequila of the Public House, I was also prompted by <a href="http://localkitchenblog.com/">Kaela Porter</a>'s <a href="http://localkitchenblog.com/2010/07/25/blueberry-lemon-chile-jam/">spicy</a> <a href="http://localkitchenblog.com/2010/08/24/peach-preserves-with-forsythia-chile/">jams</a> in making this drink. I'd been drooling over the recipes on her blog for a long time, then started trying them out a few weeks ago, and have not been able to stop. She introduced me to the idea that a moderate level of spicy does wonders for a not-too-sweet jam. So, this margarita is a little of both--not too sweet, but deliciously spicy. Thanks, Kaela; if I could share this drink with you, I would.<br />
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zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-62052191855745535292011-07-27T10:27:00.000-04:002011-07-27T10:27:12.776-04:00This is the season of peachesThis morning, Matt finished reading Margaret Atwood's <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Year-Flood-Margaret-Atwood/dp/0307455475/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1311774881&sr=8-1">The Year of the Flood</a>, </i>and mentioned something about the poems interspersed throughout the novel. This reminded me that I hadn't looked at Atwood's poetry in a long time; however, when I picked up a book of her selected poems from the shelf, I had a hard time finding a poem that resonated with me (which tells me--maybe now is not the time to return to Atwood, but maybe in a couple more years). Instead, I found a poem that was evocative of the season. I may post something by a different poet later, but thought I'd share this poem for now.<br />
<br />
Late August<br />
<br />
This is the plum season, the nights<br />
blue and distended, the moon<br />
hazed, this is the season of peaches<br />
<br />
with their lush lobed bulbs<br />
that glow in the dusk, apples<br />
that drop and rot<br />
sweetly, their brown skins veined as glands<br />
<br />
No more the shrill voices<br />
that cried <i>Need Need</i><br />
from the cold pond, bladed<br />
and urgent as new grass<br />
<br />
Now it is the crickets<br />
that say <i>Ripe Ripe</i><br />
slurred in the darkness, while the plums<br />
<br />
dripping on the lawn outside<br />
our window, burst<br />
with a sound like thick syrup<br />
muffled and slow<br />
<br />
The air is still<br />
warm, flesh moves over<br />
flesh, there is no<br />
<br />
hurry<br />
<br />
<br />
-----------------------<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">On my first read-through, my immediate thought was: "Of <i>course</i> there is need to hurry! Who's going to preserve all those plums and peaches!" This is just indicative of my shift in thinking--I want to preserve everything. But of course, the last line, set apart as it is, indicates the very opposite of what the literal words say. Reading this poem two or three times, I start to notice how insidious the ripeness is, how briefly it lasts. But I'll stop commenting now, and let you read the poem again on your own.</span>zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-37660648664943426482011-07-25T11:02:00.001-04:002011-07-25T15:51:00.343-04:00Tomatoes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Tomatoes have been around farmers markets for a few weeks already, but it seems it's just been in the last few days that they have started appearing in great quantities. I've been eyeing them, trying to figure out how we would be able to afford to purchase enough tomatoes--even at their cheapest, they are about a dollar a pound. I have absolutely no problem with paying farmers fairly, but since I've only had two weeks of employment this summer, money is getting tight. In order to really put up enough salsa, soup, marinara, and just plain tomatoes to last us a full year, I need over a hundred pounds. I couldn't bear the thought of a tomato-less winter, so I kept looking around for slightly damaged or over-ripe tomatoes in bulk. As luck would have it, I found out that the University of Tennessee <a href="http://organics.tennessee.edu/">Organic Crop</a> Production has just this--plenty of tomato "seconds." This is what I hope to be only the beginning of the tomatoes for the season; I'm using the very last of the tomatoes from these boxes this morning, and will be getting a couple more boxes on Friday.<br />
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As I've been making my way through the tomatoes, I've also been thinking about my purpose in putting up. Although I love preserving fruit, even in its most utilitarian form--in extra-light syrup--fruit still doesn't seem quite as <i>necessary</i> as putting up tomatoes, soups, stock, and other savory items. And because putting up tomatoes--and other vegetables--creates something which will sustain us in the winter months, there is more urgency in the process. The relative fleetingness of the tomato season makes the tomatoes precious, and I <s>almost</s> have a reverence for the jars of tomatoes in my pantry. I'm trying to say something that I can't quite vocalize, or perhaps something that I understand so well, that there are no longer words for it. Why do I preserve? Why do I make the effort to obtain such a heavy load of fruit and then spend several full days in the kitchen monitoring the simmering, and the processing? Because this is what there is here and now. Even though I did not have a hand in growing these tomatoes, they are <i>of this land</i>, and with <i>my</i> efforts, they will last a year, until the next tomato season. Preserving emphasizes the value of what is in season; there is an aspect of making do with what one has <i>here</i> and <i>now</i>, rather than seeking the same food on an as-needed basis. Anyone can go to the store and purchase almost anything--salsa, tomato sauce, canned tomatoes--on a whim. Preserving is deliberate. I have to plan for the full year when I put up; prior to canning, I'd never really thought about how many jars of marinara we go through in a year, but now, I could tell you an exact number. Last year, I only canned a dozen jars of plain tomatoes, and by <a href="http://foodliteraturephilosophy.blogspot.com/2011/04/african-yam-soup.html">early April</a>, we'd run out; we ended up buying a couple cans of tomatoes throughout the spring, but it was not the same. The flavor was flat, and there was no satisfaction in opening them. This year, I know better. I know that to many, these kinds of efforts sound a little crazy; but just you put up a few jars of <a href="http://localkitchenblog.com/2009/08/17/fire-roasted-tomatoes/">roasted tomatoes</a>, open one in the middle of January (to eat on toast, pizza, or in soup), and you'll know where I'm coming from.zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-39003321709143956092011-07-22T14:47:00.000-04:002011-07-22T14:47:40.318-04:00Urban Land Scout Camp<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKkGTUbd1KhHHuOitxlFl7mvjFNPH8YyCBoVkm5RZJNQbbH4hgOxIIhdbtSUEt7JCbXBIVNYDS4Kny3QmV_LkxuAi3yn0_terxbnSvDSlDMncVqBibWbuip4cOOeLgj7iPFUAXURe-f2xr/s1600/IMG_1981.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKkGTUbd1KhHHuOitxlFl7mvjFNPH8YyCBoVkm5RZJNQbbH4hgOxIIhdbtSUEt7JCbXBIVNYDS4Kny3QmV_LkxuAi3yn0_terxbnSvDSlDMncVqBibWbuip4cOOeLgj7iPFUAXURe-f2xr/s640/IMG_1981.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Katie teaches young Urban Land Scouts how to use a compass to earn the mapping badge.</td></tr>
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Today was the final day of the first ever <a href="http://urbanlandscouts.blogspot.com/">Urban Land Scout</a> camp. I have been supporting the Urban Land Scout program in small, personal ways for over a year, and was definitely glad to have the opportunity to be a counselor and propagate Urban Land Scouting to our group of young people. Over the course of the week, Katie, I, and eight young scouts spent time at <a href="http://beardsleyfarm.org/">Beardsley</a> Farm; in addition to working on earning the first five ULS badges, we learned about the workings of the farm and helped with farm chores. I was glad to see the campers' enthusiasm for learning about native edible plants, collecting seeds, and taking cuttings of herbs. Go forth, young scouts!zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-52663920244795937122011-07-15T19:34:00.000-04:002011-07-15T19:34:00.960-04:00The Garden Returns<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPah54pdfUNHVtsICpdQln_7d_Uo9s7LKyjImekM1l_VnNQRalfU7fiWNK0UTiXC4U5H7aZY1p9CbGPLEj-hyqb5Lz9RnexL48mc7MVqKOlBPvMwkNoG4MzMFjJQUluBNOfS6nCWPq23ou/s1600/IMG_1976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPah54pdfUNHVtsICpdQln_7d_Uo9s7LKyjImekM1l_VnNQRalfU7fiWNK0UTiXC4U5H7aZY1p9CbGPLEj-hyqb5Lz9RnexL48mc7MVqKOlBPvMwkNoG4MzMFjJQUluBNOfS6nCWPq23ou/s640/IMG_1976.JPG" width="554" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clockwise from beets: Holy basil, mustard greens, dinosaur kale, tomatoes, cucumbers, dill, basil.</td></tr>
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It's been a little while since I've mentioned our little backyard <a href="http://foodliteraturephilosophy.blogspot.com/2011/06/crooked-little-garden-in-rented-space.html">garden,</a> and I thought I'd write about it briefly. The garden itself looks quite different than it did a month ago--the tomatoes are towering over their stakes, the squash is spilling out of the delineated beds, and the three lone cucumber plants are threatening to take over not just the trellis, but that whole side of the fence. Almost every other day, I can walk into the back yard and harvest <i>something</i>. Just earlier in the week, we got our first ripe tomato; we've gotten about eight cucumbers, and a couple of squash, too. What you see here is the last of the beets that I planted in the non-amended clay (the bed that I built almost on a whim). The beets have been small, but they have beautiful and delicious greens, and so have been well-worth the effort. The kale is a little eaten, but still quite good; it's getting ready to bolt, and so I'll be replanting it soon, for fall.<br />
<br />
Every time that I walk outside, I am amazed--we had so few things growing last year, and now, what a variety we have!zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3152075557786187210.post-12227659524926434732011-07-15T13:19:00.000-04:002011-07-15T13:19:09.928-04:00Nocino<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old and scratched jar; the liquor already dark.</td></tr>
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It has been approximately six months (give or take a few weeks) since I'd started the multiple batches of <a href="http://foodliteraturephilosophy.blogspot.com/2011/01/lemons-twice-over-limoncello-and.html">limoncello</a>, meyer lemon limoncello, lime-oncello, <a href="http://foodliteraturephilosophy.blogspot.com/2011/02/liquors-continued-home-made-orange.html">orange liqueur</a>, and blood orange liqueur. I'm so glad that I started several different liqueurs at the peak of citrus season, as now we have the various flavors to incorporate into our favorite drinks. The slightly floral and milder meyer lemon limoncello has been my favorite (chilled, with a splash of sparkling water); I also love the fact that we now have orange liqueur that is good enough to drink on its own, if we wanted to. All the liqueurs will continue to improve with time, and will last us a good, long while.<br />
<br />
I've been thinking about making <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nocino">nocino</a> ever since I discovered limoncello. I was curious about what it would taste like, and had been gearing up to pick walnuts on the customary day (Solstice), and completely forgot about it (we were out of town for so much of June, it was easy to forget). Fortunately, I remembered about it about a week ago, and hurried to <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&t=h&msa=0&msid=201095968617336233703.00045bd6332ffd4b2bfcd&ll=35.966753,-83.918209&spn=0.066689,0.109863&z=13&source=embed">pick</a> the walnuts before their shells had hardened any further. The walnuts I found were quite large, and it took only 16 of them (quartered) to fill a half-gallon jar. I used <a href="http://midwesternexposure.wordpress.com/2010/06/26/nocino-part-one/">this</a> recipe, for the most part; if there's anything that my experiments with liqueurs have taught me is that I prefer a less sweet liqueur. Thus, I only put a couple tablespoons of sugar in with the walnuts, and actually combined all the ingredients (including the Everclear) in the jars all at once. Now, I wait for two months, shaking the jars (two half-gallons) every now and then; in two months, I'll strain the liquor and add simple syrup. The Nocino will be ready by January, just in time for the colder months. <br />
<br />
I know that this cycle of making liqueur takes a long time, but now that I am imbibing the earlier infusions, I'm growing to appreciate the process. It's secondary to my main food preservation, but I like it--there's something quite irresistible about home-made liqueurs, and it impresses people without a lot of hands-on effort on my part.<br />
<br />
If you can get your hands on some green walnuts, why not start a batch of nocino of your very own? zemmelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01217872533250581698noreply@blogger.com0