1.29.2011

Getting Back to The Dirty Life


“But most people don’t go outside that much” a man on the radio said when defending the idea of building a self enclosed city on Mars that could sustain human life.

I was in the car as I heard this, and my first reaction was “This guy’s nuts! People go outside all the time.  What kind of person wouldn’t want to go outside?” 

As I continued to listen, I rolled down the window just enough and handed the attendant my validated ticket for the grocery store parking garage, before rolling it up again as I exited.  After an earlier workout at the gym and a long day grading papers, I was looking forward to getting home and settling in with a book and glass of wine.

And then it dawned on me— I was the type of person the guy on the radio described:  a perfect candidate for Mars.

What were my excuses?  It was January.  It’d been raining forever.  I was wearing a particularly uncomfortable pair of heels.  The list could go on. 

When I parked a few minutes later, and climbed the carpeted stairs toward home, I wondered what on earth happened to those dirty childhood days, when I would get grass stains on my pants, and sand under my fingernails.  What happened to the mud pie and snowball fight?  Did I grow out of the outdoors?  If so, how could I find my way back?

Kristin Kimball’s new book, The Dirty Life, answers that question and gives us all a reason to get outdoors.  She’s the flip-flopped version of my own equation:  instead of growing out of the outdoors, she grew into them. 

A New York writer who falls in love with a farmer, the book takes readers along with her as she starts a CSA with her fiancé, and learns to farm on 500 acres six hours from the city she loves.  She describes her land and the animals who share it, with such care, that I felt I too had smelled the soil on the end of her shovel, and looked into her cow Delia’s patient eyes. 

There are no excuses on Kimball’s end as she bundles up against the winter dawns with no experience, and sweats out the sickeningly hot summer.  The book chronicles all four seasons on the farm and in her new relationship, which is just as regular in its shifting.

The best part?  It reminded me of the meditative tiredness at the end of a day outdoors, the amazing meal made with food pulled from the earth.  She made my mouth water for things I would never normally crave— pigeon wrapped in bacon, giant watermelon radishes drizzled with reduced balsamic and sprinkled with pomegranates.  Most of all, she made me not want to live on Mars. 

So, I decided to prove the radio guy wrong and join some of the people who do go outdoors. Marra Farm Giving Garden is located in South Seattle, and it donates all produce to the food bank and to the community in which it was raised and harvested.  They have volunteer work parties on Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday from 10:00-2:00, starting in March.  I’m happy to say that I’ll be there this spring, graduating from mud pies to edible produce.    

In the meantime, as I go out for my usual ritual of getting coffee and reading, I have started to walk instead of drive.  In true Seattle form, it usually starts to rain, and my suede shoes inevitably get soaked, but there is something about the dampness on my skin, and the blood in my cheeks, that makes me feel more like my old self.  

For more information on Marra Farm Giving Garden visit:
Marra Farm Giving Garden

1.22.2011

Built to Last


Don’t be fooled by the recent fanfare, the pickle’s not a trend. According to the New York Food Museum's Pickle History Timeline at http://www.nyfoodmuseum.org/_ptime.htm, the first known use for the pickle dates back as far as 2400 B.C. That’s right! Even before there was a Christ, there was a pickle.  Aristotle and Cleopatra apparently lauded their health affects and Caesar fed them to his troops.  But the true purpose of the pickle, the reason they were born in the first place, was to preserve the harvest, keep it going strong through the months of dearth.  It was necessary, not frivolous, but what people got was a handy little bite that could withstand the test of time.

It was this sympathy for over abundance, and for preservation, that made me attempt to "put up" my first batch of pickles this November. For me, the inspiration was not an over abundance of cucumbers, but an over abundance of stuff.  I was newly engaged and prepping to merge my long-standing single-woman apartment with my fiancés well-worn bachelor abode.   With too many trips to value village, where I rang the bell reluctantly and dropped off dog-eared books and once loved clothing, I realized that I wished there was a way to keep all this stuff from my old life safe somewhere, and have it still be useful later, pickle it, in a way. 

A few weeks later when the purging had reached its end and we were settling into a new life of two-ness, the drive to preserve was still on my mind, but so was the need to be domestic.  Being somewhat eccentric, I didn’t want to just be domestic in all the usual ways. I wanted to do it in a throw-back DIY way, and try my hand at something that would quell the empty feeling leftover from the parting of my things, while at the same time making my fiancé say:  “Damn I’m glad I picked her!” I would pickle! 

Liana Krissoff’s Canning for a New Generation is not only full of great tips on how to not kill people with the things you preserve, but it contains amazing recipes for things like Meyer Lemon and Rose Petal Marmalade and Chamomile-Scented Strawberry Syrup.  I thumbed through the pages and envisioned a pantry glowing with brightly colored, delicious preserves. 

Never mind the fact that we don’t have a pantry and I’d never canned a thing in my life.  I set out to can something I had in my Full Circle Farms box, which unfortunately didn’t include strawberries or lemons, with the zeal of a person happily devoted to a new cause.  And that’s how my first batch of Zucchini Bread-and-Butter Pickles with Ginger was born.  Here is the recipe with a little of my own tweaking:

Zucchini Bread and Butter Pickles with Ginger
Inspired by Liana Krissoff
From:  Canning for a New Generation

Makes about 6 pint jars

4 lbs zucchini
1 lb onions
¼ plus 1 tablespoon pure kosher salt
2 tablespoons coriander seeds
1 tablespoon yellow mustard seeds
2 ½ teaspoons crushed red pepper flakes (less if you don’t want it spicy)
6 cups cider vinegar (5% acidity)
¾ cup honey
1 ½ teaspoons turmeric
1 ½ teaspoons dry mustard powder
12 thin rounds fresh ginger

You’ll also need:
1 big canning pot which you can find in a standard size at most hardware stores (Yes, they have a canning section!)
1 canning rack, which should come with the pot
1 jar lifter (You can also use tongs with rubber bands around the ends)
1 chopstick

First steps:
Rinse the zucchini, getting off any dirt, and make each slice about ¼ inch thick.  Halve the onions lengthwise and thinly slice them.  In a large bowl, combine the onions and zucchini and add ¼ cup Kosher salt mixing well with the ingredients.  Put a layer of ice over everything, cover with plastic wrap or a plate, and refrigerate overnight or for 8 hours.  Wash six-pint jars and let dry.

Wait. And wait.

Once the pickles are nearly marinated, you’ll want to get your water bath ready.  This means you should fill a large canning pot with enough water to cover the jars by at least one inch. Once you’ve filled the pot, put the canning rack in the bottom, put the lid on and turn on high heat.  The water will probably take about a half an hour to boil.  

Stuff you’ll need to get ready in the meantime:
While the water bath is waiting to boil, you should get out your well-marinated pickles!  Strain them, get rid of any ice chunks, and rinse them under cold water. Put them back in the bowl and add the coriander, mustard seed and red pepper flakes and toss.   

Get out a chopstick, a jar lifter or some tongs with rubber bands wrapped around the ends, and lay out a dishtowel on a clean and empty counter space. 

Next steps:
Once the water’s boiling, put the lids to the jars in a clean pan or heat-proof bowl and ladle boiling water over them, covering them.  This will sterilize them and get them ready to seal.  Put the washed jars into the boiling water, with 1 inch of water covering them and let them boil for 10 minutes. 

Making brine in the meantime:
While the jars are sterilizing, combine the vinegar, 1 ½ cups water, the honey, turmeric, ground mustard and 1 tablespoon of kosher salt in a non-reactive pot (not aluminum or copper).  Bring to a boil.

Back to the jars:
When the jars are ready, take them out with the tongs, pouring the water back into the pot carefully, and put them upright on the dishtowel.  Drain the jar lids and put them on the towel too.

At a nice clip, you’ll want to put 2 slices of ginger in the bottom of each jar, pack the zucchini and onions into the jars lightly, and then ladle the hot brine over them leaving ½ inch headspace at the top.  Pop the air bubbles with a chopstick.  If you don’t do this, they will ruin your precious pickles.  You don’t have to worry about the tiny ones, but make sure you turn the jar carefully to find and pop all the big ones that you can see lurking down the sides.  Use a damp towel to wipe the rims of each jar and then put a flat lid and a ring on each jar, adjusting the ring so that it’s on but not too tight.  You should be able to unscrew it easily with just your fingertips.  Return the full jars to the water in the canning pot, giving them each room.  Make sure the water covers them by at least one inch, and bring to a boil.  Boil for 15 minutes. 

Remove the jars with the jar lifter and put them on a clean towel in a place where they won’t get touched, or bumped for 12 hours.  After an hour or so, they should seal.  You’ll know this when you hear them pop.  If you want to test to see if they have sealed, you can press down on the lids.  If you can press them up and down, they have not sealed.  They should feel like they are sucked tight to the jar.  If any of your jars don’t seal, refrigerate them and eat them right away. Label the rest and store in your pantry.  Spread the pickle love!


I no sooner had the zucchini from my farm box sliced, iced and covered with onion when the refrigerator decided to, well, stop refrigerating.  It was as if the pre-Frigidaire ghosts wanted me to know what it was really like to pickle.  Luckily the ice kept them cold long enough to adequately marinate before I dunked them in brine.  “Honey” I proudly shouted to my love as I pulled the warm milk from the fridge and poured it down the sink, “Even if all our food goes bad, we’ll still be able to eat the pickles!” 

But I was getting ahead of myself.  Because, pickling is not like cooking; it is like baking:  a precise and chemical art that doesn’t bode well for a free-styler like me.  You must do EXACTLY what the directions say.  That includes popping the air bubbles with chopsticks, and screwing on the lids not too tightly so they have room to seal.  It also involves waiting for each jar to give its signature “pop” to let you know it’s done.

Once the jars were filled and sitting snuggly on their towel, waiting to seal, I stared at them for a while, determined to wait them out.  But jar-gazing isn’t terribly entertaining and I soon got sleepy.

When they finally popped around midnight, I opened my eyes.  My fiancé was curled up beside me, my pickles were finally done, and for the first time I felt the brand new pang of home, well preserved.

My first pickles.

1.15.2011

Practice What You Teach

I just rang in 2011:  the year that will mark my fifth as a writing teacher.  And the year, I also hope, when I will begin to practice growing and preparing sustainable food.  What do the two have in common?   

The answer begins with a story from my first year of graduate school.  I still laugh to remember the composition director whose office I ran into crying on my first week as a teacher.  His bald head and circular glasses seemed comical, despite his stare as he said:  “You won’t damage them, Lauren.  Just do stuff, and they’ll do stuff too.”  This may be a slightly altered paraphrase of how he suggested I handle the teaching of my first English 101 class, but the basic premise was that I shouldn’t be afraid to fail, and that if I tried things, they’d respond and we'd both learn something.

But that first year, what I was really attempting to do was know stuff.  In fact, know everything.  Just like the phrase “fake it ‘till you make it” which also seemed to be on everyone’s tongues that first quarter of graduate school, it reeked of blindness.  I didn’t want to be fake, and I couldn’t possibly know everything.  What did I know? 

I realized quickly, that I knew how to learn and that I could practice techniques and research right along with my students in order to teach them better.  I could troubleshoot, look things up I didn’t know, select course topics that I wanted to know more about.  In short, I could teach them how to learn, and teach them what a learning person does:  practice. 

Enter English 102, the statewide community college course wherein students learn research writing based on their teacher’s chosen theme.  My love of cooking and interest in learning to garden, paired with my desire to know what I am eating, led me to try my first course theme, The Politics of Eating in America, last January.  I had no idea the popularity the class would have at Edmonds and North Seattle Community Colleges.  Students were, and are, incredibly excited to take the class, and they often come with ready knowledge about food, and what it takes to prepare and grow it.  They have suggested books and brainstormed ideas of a garden space for students on campus; one is even in the process of organizing a public garden space in the city of Edmonds that can raise produce for the local food banks.  In short, the class has started to cause some interesting change, in students, on campus, and in myself. 

Instead of thinking of ways to get my students excited about the course topics, they have gotten me energized! I have been diving into new lifestyle changes, and a new approach to food that inspires my course topics.  This blog is my attempt to chronicle this journey as I try to practice what I teach, and continue to sow change.  

Below is my first batch of zucchini-ginger bread and butter chips, a canning project I'll blog more about later.  Right now, it needs to marinate :). 




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