Fermenting Change

Autumn is a busy time here on our boatstead. We have been gathering apples, pressing them in our gorgeous cider press for our year's supply of wine and hard cider. I have been canning: tomatoes, tuna, applesauce. And more applesauce. I have dried wild mushrooms and tomatoes. This year we put in a small garden on the top deck, mostly herbs and tomatoes (plus a few leeks that traveled from Kirkland to Oakland and then to us, which is a longer story than I am going to tell right now).

Fermentation is Science for Cooks!

This week the theme is ferments.  Fabulous Ferments, of course! I am conducting a fermentation workshop on Saturday for the members of our new GAPS support group (and anyone else who wants to learn, of course). Starting GAPS is hard enough without struggling to make unfamiliar things like kraut and stocks, so this is where we need to start, with the basics.  When I do a workshop, I always bring as many samples as I can, to demonstrate the possible variety, so I am scrambling to have enough to showcase. Because my ferments have been kind of wacky recently. Well, slimy is a more exact word. Odd, though, that the vegetable matter isn't slimy and the smell and taste are fine. It's just the brine that has the consistency of raw egg whites, which is not a big selling point for most people.

So I am conducting a major experiment: I bought a monster cabbage at Sunny Farms--it weighed over 20 pounds!--and prepared the whole thing by shredding and salting, using my thrifted old-timey cabbage shredder (which looks like an overgrown mandoline, and makes cutting the cabbage in fine threads so easy) Then the fun really began! I stuffed each of five mason jars with the basic kraut mixture, then added a different starter to each one: powdered yoghurt, powdered kefir, a commercial probiotic, liquid whey, and the fifth was left wild, using the lactobacillus naturally present on cabbage. One more jar was also left wild, but airlocked, in a Pickl-It jar.

I have had some success with the Pickl-Its, but we have odd flora on the boat, and they somehow managed to infiltrate the supposedly closed system. I have scalded the jars, sterilized them with bleach (yuck, I know, but I am desperate to get rid of the funky slime). Still I have this ropy liquid I am hesitant to call brine. Which has led me to turning the boat into a laboratory this week.  I think the natives are getting restless, what with the discombobulation in our small floating home. Let's see what the experiment tells us in a few days... Hopefully it will have been worth the mess and disruption, when I have a successful approach to ferments in our marine environment.

Starters?

A note about starters: I used what was available to me locally, which means I didn't have a dairy-free starter. Those are available online, and I am going to get my hands on some for experiments. Whey (from dripped yoghurt)is obviously a dairy-based starter, but I have always been able to tolerate the small amount that remains in my kvass, despite not doing well on dairy (other than butter, and the newly-introduced homemade sour cream--yay!) Powdered starters are convenient, though they are not perfect. I believe that it is much better to use real kefir grains than any starter, but I neither have any nor am I at all sure how I would use them to ferment something thick like applesauce. Another experiment in my future! When I make yoghurt I use a good quality commercial yoghurt, with no fillers or extra ingredients, as the starter. Using the dried powder starters seemed to be a good starting place for my investigations, as they are reliable, relatively easy to use, something I can teach others to do.

Call me crazy, but when I get on a roll, well, lots of things get done! In addition to the plain kraut, I made one jar with cumin and fenugreek and one with juniper berries and cauliflower. There is a new jar of basic beet kvass (I like it well aged, so have to make ahead), no additions, and a jar of Dr. Natasha's Vegetable Medley. Add in a jar of ginger carrots (from Nourishing Traditions, and four jars of fermented applesauce--two raw and and two cooked, and WHEW!! I am done for now, and am enjoying the array of bubbling jars on the shelf behind the setee.

There are wonderful sites, blogs, and books now devoted to the art of fermenting, but I always come back to Sandor Katz' Wild Fermentation, with a book and blog of the same name. He does an amazing job of introducing many types of ferments, why we would want to make and eat them, and--best of all--he transmits a infectious joy for all things microbial. I encourage any of you who have yet to dip a toe into the world of ferments, traditional and inventive, to explore what "Sandorkraut" has to offer.

Why Ferment?

We humans have more microbes in our digestive tracts than we have cells in our bodies--about five pounds of the stuff! These microbes--bacteria, yeasts, viruses and tiny parasites, come in both beneficial and pathogenic varieties. The beneficial beasties help with digestion, with conversion of various substances we eat to usable forms, and they even manufacture some nutrients that we depend upon (vitamin K is a well-known example). They help keep the pathogens in check, both the ones that reside in the gut, and the ones that show up on occasion--so they are a functioning part of our immune systems.

Unfortunately, there are multiple factors in our modern life that can destroy our microbial friends. The list is long: antibiotics (which do not discriminate between the good guys and the bad), steroids, birth control pills, denatured foods, metal toxicity, multiple chemicals (in foods, the environments, cleaning supplies, etc), and more.

As concerning is the fact that we don't have or take in the microbes that we might have in the past. Babies are supposed to acquire probiotic bacteria as they travel through the birth canal, swallowing fluids from mama, and then through the skin-to-skin contact of nursing and being held. As more babies are born by C-section, and fewer are nursed, and many moms receive antibiotics during labor, many babies start life at a microbial disadvantage. 

In the past we sourced our water from streams and wells, where we gained the benefit of pure water (no chemicals) and trace soil organisms. Our forbears ate quite a bit of their food fermented, perhaps originally owing to a lack of refrigeration, but eventually because people enjoyed and thrived on the changed foods. We developed a taste for all sorts of ferments, things you might not even know were once fermented: soda, yoghurt, vinegar, sausages (such as salami), bread, beer, wine, ketchup, fish sauce, myriad pickles, chocolate, coffee, tea. Just about every culture has a favorite culture! Think dosas and iddlies in India, sauerkraut in Germany, root beer in the USA, tsukemono, natto, and miso in Japan, kvass of all sorts in Russia. I know I am just scratching the surface, but that should give you a sense of the enormous variety in the world of fermentation.

Eating cultured food does not replace the flora we should have gotten at birth, but it goes a long way toward keeping us healthy. Hippocrates famously said that all disease begins in the gut, and now we are finally proving this scientifically. Luckily, though, we don't need scientists to help us shift the balance toward the beneficial, friendly, tribe. We just need to take the offenders out of our lives, as much as we can control, and add the good guys in on a daily basis. In an acute situation, a bottled commercial probiotic can be helpful, but we all need to consume some amount of cultured food to keep the healthy balance we were meant to have. Some folks have even reversed very troubling issues with powerful probiotic foods such as kefir (see Dom's site for one inspiring story).

OK, so these foods are almost miraculous. Will they change the world? Will they satisfy those agitating for various political and economic shifts? Why should we put so much energy into food? I don't have all of those answers, but I will say this: slowing down to make and appreciate real, healing, foods may indeed change your life. It has changed mine. And if our lives change, we may influence some others. We may be able to turn around and help a friend, a neighbor, a relative. We can set an example of a simple and healthful life, which might shift the energy in our social circle. That in turn, can affect a neighborhood, a town, and who knows where the change might end.

It is entirely possible that by helping our microbes instead of killing them, that maybe we might Ferment Change in the world.

All it takes is a head of cabbage, some salt and a jar....

A Recipe (and a bit of a rant.)

I trust my farmers. I trust them deeply, else I would not eat the food that I do (and I feed my family with this food, so this is terribly important to me, that I can look a farmer in the eye, go to his or her farm, observe how the animals live).

When I started eating in the manner advocated by Weston A. Price, Sally Fallon, and Nourishing Traditions, some years ago, I had no idea that I would have such gratifying relationships with our local farmers. Over time, they have become Friends Who Happen to Raise Our Food. I believe this is what happens when there is no separation in the form of a grocery store or other middle man. Every week we go to the farmers market. That is beginning of the story. What happens from there depends on the day. We might have intense conversation over whether the cheese is better with or without the rind. About how hot the Big Bomb peppers are. About the best way to prepare beef heart. That may seem obvious, talking about the food.

Soon, though, something else started to happen. If we missed a week, we were greeted with loving concern ("Is everything all right? We missed you..."), there were questions back and forth about kids, about health concerns, about the weather and the economy. We were becoming part of a rich community. Now we hear about sweethearts and weddings, the loss of another farmer's chickens, the immigration troubles of a relative. We exchange hugs, phone numbers, recipes.

And because I trust my farmers, I generally trust their recipes. Tonight I tried something a bit out of my comfort zone, recommended by Fred and Joanne Hatfield of Kol Simcha Farm. Fred and Joanne raise lamb, chickens for eggs and vegetables. They are always ready with a wonderful recipe and the ingredients to prepare it, so when they suggested making a lamb stew Fred remembered fondly from his fishing days, we had to try it. I wasn't too sure about the combination of lamb, cabbage and peppercorns, and I had no idea this dish is a national icon in Norway, but I am game to do almost anything once.

Only, when I went to make dinner, I had misplaced the recipe that Joanne had tucked into my bag of lamb shanks and cabbage. A bit of googling turned up multiple recipes for faarikaal the national dish of Norway. (Do we have a national dish? Do I really want to know what that might be?) I remembered a few details (such as a copious amount of peppercorns--I used two tablespoons, and I think Joanne recommended four!) and set out to recreate what our friends had enthusiastically described. A simple braise, faarikaal can be pared down to four ingredients; lamb, cabbage, peppercorns, salt. Easy! And GAPS friendly too! I added some onion and carrot to those four things, filled one of my big Dutch ovens halfway with water and a bit of broth, and set the whole thing in the oven for three or four hours. That's it, nothing difficult. I had four shanks and used 1/2 of a medium cabbage and 3 carrots. The rest is done by eye and taste (meaning that you don't need a recipe with exact proportions, just trust it will work out).

As it happens, I had to go out in the early evening, and by the time I got home, the whole boat was filled with the aroma of faarikaal, warm and inviting. It was so late and I was so hungry that I just served the stew with no accompaniments other than some tart red kraut (yeah, more cabbage, but the tart was perfect with the rich meat and broth. I think lingonberries are a traditional accompaniment, for just that reason). I know you want pictures, but I was way too famished to stop and take any (there are a few at the above link).

So yummy and warming. Just like our friendships with our farmers. It's easy to say that we would be lost without farms and farmers. That must be clear to most anyone who thinks about it for a few minutes. But do most Americans know what has happened to the family farm? Do they know that most of the country's food comes from places that look very little like the pretty little farms in our children's picture books (or on the greenwashed packages in places like Whole Foods)? There's a reason they are called "factory" farms, with a heavy emphasis on the factory part.

This has been weighing heavily on my mind since Michael Schmidt began his hunger strike 33 days ago. Here is a farmer who has spent his life fighting for food freedom, for our right to eat real food, free from government interference, and who has won the loyalty of many around the world for his impeccable integrity. Unfortunately, the government of Canada, where he lives and farms, does not see it that way. He has been raided, harassed, and brought close to ruin more than once by government agencies that don't really care whether he is doing a service to families that choose--freely--to buy his milk. Rules is rules, according to them, never mind that the rules are bizarre, really serving to squelch real competition on the market.

Raw milk politics may seem marginal to many, but this is bigger than raw milk--it is about the freedom to choose Real Food. No one tells me I can't buy raw oysters (for now). I don't have to lie and claim they are cat food (though Mr. Chippy does love his oysters!) No one demands that fish or meat be sold cooked only. Why must we treat people like idiots or babies and force them to buy cooked milk only? Because, for some reason, the milk industry is actually feeling threatened by the presence of cow shares and milk coops. They will claim it is because people have been sickened by raw milk, but if you spend a while on realmilk.com you will see that more people have contracted illnesses from things like lunch meats, produce, and other products of Big Agriculture. I retain the right to eat what I feel nourishes me and my family. And I will go down fighting for your right to do so as well.

Which is why Michael Schmidt is fasting. His demand: a meeting with the premier of Ontario to discuss these matters face to face, with no intermediaries. The premier, Dalton McGuinty, has yet to even say whether he will meet with Schmidt. The demand is not to change policy, just to have a meeting, a conversation. Are we so frightened as a society that we can't honor a request for dialog? I have a hard time believing that a politician could let another man die on his watch, rather than man up and have a discussion with him, no matter how much they might disagree.

There is so much more I could say, but it is late and I am beginning to ramble. Lots of wonderful bloggers have written sensitive analyses of what is happening. If I have time tomorrow I will compile a list (for now, go to the FaceBook page that is serving as a clearing house for support and information: http://www.facebook.com/groups/supportmichaelschmidt/ ) I hope that I am being clear though: we have to fight for our freedoms, in whatever way we can. Most of us can not risk our lives with a hunger strike, but might sign a petition, talk to someone, write a letter, attend a rally, or just go buy some raw milk--or oysters, for that matter--just go find some real food and support the farmer who is selling it.

And remember, those farmers, who work such long days to bring us our food...they could be your friends. Start a conversation. Who knows where it might lead?

The Velvet Ropes in the Theatre of My Life: Boundaries

I grew up in New York City--land of noise, constant stimulation, non-stop entertainment.

There's a seeming chaos in The City, to the uninitiated. But New York has it's rules, it's order, things that make it negotiable to those who stick around long enough to learn what they are. It's easy to feel overwhelmed if you don't do like the New Yorkers. And one thing New Yorkers do well is lines (queues, in Brit-speak). Lines tell you where to go, and also where you cannot go. This can be very comforting in a hectic environment. Look for the line in a crowd and you can find the way into a popular eatery, or the source of the music, or...

When I was about 8 years old, my grandmother took me and my younger brother to Radio City Music Hall. It was grand--huge, ornate, imposing. The line snaked around the block, defined by heavy red velvet ropes, suspended from brass posts. As we stood in the line, making our way closer to the entrance that would signal our transition from Outsiders to the Privileged Few, I watched people and read posters for future shows. Slowly I realized that I was being watched in return. Passersby would scan the faces in the line, looking for something. Maybe they were jealous, maybe they wanted to take the afternoon to watch the Rockettes and Song of the South (yes! That was the show!) instead of having to hustle off to their next appointment. I am not sure, but I saw that, even behind the velvet ropes, even before walking through the grand entrance, that I was already "other".

The line somehow gave me space, set me apart. I am sure someone has done a study of the science of lines and crowd behaviour, but I can tell you from my little-girl observations that boundaries give us space to see where we stand. If we embrace them, they can define our space, give us breathing room and create order. I am a person who needs a certain amount of order in my life, so I guess it's time I looked at the boundaries I do and don't have in my life.

Because I have been overwhelmed recently.

I can only imagine where I would be if I were not nourishing myself well. As it is I have not had the energy or desire to write. It has taken all of my resources to do the daily tasks and to focus on my family. We have had a variety of our children and grandchildren here, at one point last week numbering eleven people between our two boats. Neither boat is huge, so it's natural that--with everyone cheek by jowl--we have had some frayed nerves. The stress of writing my thesis loomed large on top of it all.

A selection of us took an overnight trip to Victoria last week, a lovely two days in our charming neighbor city across the Strait. The outing was organized by our homeschool group, which provided for a tour bus, a hotel, and various attractions. It was a wholly different experience than we had previously had, exploring the town on foot between the morning and evening ferries. If you ever visit Victoria I highly recommend the Castle and the Miniature Museum--both were charming and great fun. I can't say enough about how beautiful this very European-feeling city is! We are really so very lucky to live in a small town with a world-class city ninety minutes away by water...

I did get a migraine while away, a stark reminder of where I used to be. I was not able to treat it the way I would at home, but did the best I could with the tools I had with me. I think that something in my lunch that day contained hidden MSG, judging from the unpleasant reaction I had. My older daughters collected the makings for ginger tea with honey and lemon from the restaurant at the hotel and the dim sum place where they ate dinner. They fixed in the the room's coffee pot--such resourceful kids! We made an ice pack out of a plastic bag, which I ended up sleeping with. I survived, but I am so glad that such an experience is now rare for me.

Back to the Velvet Ropes (aka Boundaries): I tend to be a very giving person, wanting to help wherever I can. Like most people with this tendency (mostly women, I think) I usually put myself last. I have variously been a teacher, cook/baker, midwife and health educator. And Mom. All of these are nurturing, even feminine, occupations, which are often also poorly paid. Many of you in caregiving roles (paid and unpaid) will recognize the tendency to give even when our personal resources are dwindling.

I lived like that for many years, first as a special education teacher in a residential facility, then in an unhappy marriage, and then as a single mom in midwifery school--finally happy but overextended. It seems I have always had boundary issues. In all of the drama surrounding my divorce, my dad (The Shrink, which he is) reminded me that "you never have to drink the soup as hot as it's served." Which is to say that I am ultimately in charge. I can respond in a situation, as opposed to reacting. I know this, but do not always live it (but The Captain is always ready to hold up a mirror for me, to gently remind me that just because someone says something doesn't necessarily make it true. Deep breath in.....now drop the shoulders....)

Even when the stressor is a good thing, as in visiting family, weddings, babies, etc, we can neglect ourselves in a way that leads to resentment, a lack of flexibility, an impaired ability to handle the varying needs and circumstances. It makes me in particular crochety, edgy, almost prickly.  I gather I haven't been much fun to live with recently.

I am trying to do some "selfish" things, to restore balance. I opted out of cooking dinner yesterday, instead shutting myself into my personal space for some quiet time. I also spent a while poking around in one of the local antique/junk shops yesterday afternoon--and found a few treasures! Today I go do laundry, not a glorious job, but it is time alone, so I'll take it gladly. And, after talking with my advisor, I think I will delay my thesis until this storm passes.

Still, I struggle with this issue. I want to be a giver, but I realize that I have to be full myself to do that. The last few weeks I have also been reaching out to a few friends who really empathize, who are solid and supportive of what I am processing. They also act as mirrors, giving me their perspectives while not allowing me to wallow (too much). I truly appreciate these wonderful people who have taken the time to listen as I said the same thing over and over, seeking a deeper understanding with each conversation. You know who you are, so please accept my hugs and loving appreciation.

Writing may be erratic this summer. I wish it were otherwise, as the writing does feed me as well as you all, but it's another little "selfishness" I need to embrace. I will write as I am moved, as I have things to share. I hope that will be several times a week, but if it's not, I know you will understand that I am taking care of myself and my family.  That I am welcoming and installing very elegant velvet ropes in my life so that I will know where I stand. The theatre of my life is non-stop, but sometimes I am backstage, sometimes I am in the audience, and only sometimes will I be front and center. Thanks for joining me as I define those roles!

Do boundaries serve you well in your life? Do you wish you had more or fewer?

Just a Quick Post...

A full day, but mostly I did laundry--a huge task when you are hauling 5 (now 6) people's clothes and a household full of linens up to the car in a dock cart, which makes me look like a tinker with a hand cart making my way up the ramp.

Four huge washers full, and three hours later, after errands and ferrying kids, I rushed home to make a late-ish dinner from the whole salmon I had thawed really because it was hogging so much room in the freezer. I wish I had taken pictures, but it's always like that when you are in a hurry, no?

The salmon, with tail but minus the head, was about 6-8 pounds worth, way too much for our dinner, so I cut it basically in half, baking the tail end stuffed with herbs, and turned the center portion into gravlax.  I made a salad and some snow peas with browned ghee (a happy accident) and we had an elegant meal.

And now, I am so tired. I am off to bed, as the birthday tomorrow will demand much from us. Much love from the drizzly Northwest...

Sane Travel and a Most Perfect Fruit

Gorgeous lychee fruits

So here I am, with my new computer cord (Thank you Apple! My computer is waaay out of warranty, but they didn't skip a beat in getting a manager to comp the cord, a $70 gift...) and therefore the ability to write, but.....well, I am sort of out of the habit. That's sort of how I feel about Intro now too. I have lost the thread. Oh, I am eating totally GAPS, and avoiding things like the bread, nuts and fruit. But I somehow don't feel connected to the process, and I certainly don't feel as connected to the group. I enjoyed the break from so much computer time, but I can see it left me something of a "vox clamantis in deserto" ("the voice of one crying in the wilderness").

I suppose I will just summarize what's been going on this last week. And try to tease whatever messages are there out for me, for us.

Miss Blondina and I journeyed to Seattle last Thursday morning, both to the the Broadway musical Mary Poppins (fabulous!) and to our friends' home, where the daughter was hosting my girlie and her cousin for a birthday sleepover celebration. I packed enough cooked food for the journey--chicken soup, a country pate, cheese and yoghurt (Blondie's), ginger tea--and the makings for a lavish meal to share with our friends. We feasted on braised grass-fed roast, asparagus, acorn squash and a cucumber salad, and everyone but me had my home-canned apricots for dessert. The duck eggs that I brought were for breakfast (asparagus omelets!), and there was plenty for my drive home.

In fact, it was such a successful trip food-wise that it made me wonder why I would ever eat out. I never got sick or developed a migraine, despite many hours spent at a mall looking for jeans (why does no one make attractive jeans for a curvy woman who is not a teenager? I left without the jeans.) Normally, a migraine would almost be a given after countless hours in stores that are too loud, too bright and filled with noxious scents (intentional, like candles and "air fresheners",  and others like shoe glues and other chemicals in the products). Even though I drove home much later than I had intended, and ate my dinner waiting for the ferry, I ended up at home in pretty good shape.

There was a time, when The Bosun was actively racing his sailing pram, that we traveled to regattas with a Crock-Pot plugged into an inverter in the car. We would arrive at our hotel with dinner ready, needing only a salad. We could eat well, even without a kitchen, using a cooler and the slow cooker. This last trip makes me want to re-institute that set-up, or at least to invest in some more great stainless steel thermal bottles, as the two I have were in constant use with the soup and ginger tea.

Weekends are always busy, but we spent the last one getting ready for the arrivals of two of our kids. The Scientist, our oldest daughter, drove across the country in record time, dog and four-year old in tow, showing up Sunday night to a warm, but short, welcome--everyone was exhausted and soon settled down, knowing we have two months to visit. Yesterday, we picked the Writer up at the big airport (yes, that means we have driven to Seattle a crazy amount of times this week, as the Captain has gone twice to drive his parents to and from the airport). Sigh. Now we can rest for a bit. Except that it's The Professional's birthday this weekend. And the Juan de Fuca Festival. And....

Lucky for me, my kids are all superb cooks. That will make this busy summer easier, what with all of the comings and goings of our nine kids (and two grandkids), who will all visit at some point over the next few months. The Writer took dinner in hand tonight--without my asking!--turning out an absolutely amazing pot of oxtails that looked like they were made of burnished mahogany. Add in some pureed cauliflower and a salad, and of course our huge family, and we had a lovely evening. We topped it off with a bag of fresh lychees that the Writer picked in Coconut Grove, near my parents' home, and presented to us along with a bag of mangoes.

Thanks to Baden's insightful post from the other day, I happily partook of the lychees, willing the guilt to sit in the corner. Lychees are one of those amazing ephemeral fruits that don't travel well, are never sold in stores, and are limited to a very short season. The flavor is perfumy, almost floral, and there is a ritual to the peeling and eating that keeps it all in balance. Instead of gorging on a huge amount of fruit, I sat and savored the experience, so rare and special it is. And it seems to have worked--I have no headache or heartburn, despite eating fruit before its formal introduction (this is the second such lapse, and the first did not go well, so I am indeed surprised).

Perhaps cultivating not only balance, but also finding gratitude and pleasure in our moments of "cheating" or making exceptions or whatever you want to call it, perhaps that is what makes the difference. Perhaps our attitude about the treat can predict the outcome. I know that if I feel guilty or stressed, or like I am succumbing to a craving, then I end up feeling poorly in the end. Whether that's from the cheat food or from my emotional state, I may never be really clear. Still, the lychees were a treat I embraced and so far my body seems to be embracing the treat! Not a statistically meaningful experiment, but maybe a tiny bit of insight to add into the mix.

I hope you have had a lovely week while I was away from my computer! Did you have any great insights you would like to share in the comments? They are always welcome and do help other people, so please do join the conversation....

Advance and Retreat

I am typing this with my thumbs on my phone, my comPuter having given up for now. I suppose, because I type reeeeeaaaallly slowly this way, that I will not be saying too much of substance until I resolve this issue. That probably will be on Friday, when I am in Seattle. I am missing writing daily and can Only hope you will bear with me.

Today was a successful "out and about day". Tu and I and several kids were off on an adventure--and we navigated being out and food shopping with no meltdowns (neither kid nor adult!) We both had thermoses of soup, Tu had squash simmered in broth, and I had a country pate I made a couple of days ago. Add in water and Ginger tea and we ate so well that no "treats" demanded our attention. Yay for that!

We also spent a while talking to a friend with Lyme disease about using GAPS to heal fromthe heavy antibiotics his naturopath has prescribed. Just yesterday I was reading about that in Dr. Natasha's FAQs. (I have found it useful to reread them regularly, as certain things only sink in after repetition). We were daydreaming as group about setting up an Intro Retreat to help others get started.

What do you think? Would that be a useful enterprise?

The Pleasure of New, Devil's Club and Sock Animals

Let's change our course a bit today. It's Spring, sunny and clear. The birds are happy. The marina is buzzing with activity. Even the air seems new and fresh. Everyone now comments that it may indeed be Summer one day (most people were not so sure last week).

And, I seem to have weirded out my audience with the pig head photos. My apology to those of you with sensitive stomachs; I have stated before that I do not, which can render me a bit tone deaf when it comes to the discomfort of others. So let's take a day for light conversation, as my acknowledgment that some of you were sort of put off by graphic pork porn.

That's a vegetable? Yes! it's a Spring Devil's Club shoot.

Continuing the investigations into all things Local + Seasonal, the editorial staff has decided to do a little review of Devil's Club Shoots, having acquired some at our lovely farmer's market over the weekend. Thanks to Preston of Wild West for finally allowing us to take home enough for the family (more on that in a few moments).

What's that you say? Devil's Club is evil? Armed and dangerous? It's truly the Devil's Spawn? As a sometime hiker, I would have to agree with you there. The huge thickets of spiny plants that confront adventurers on the Olympic Peninsula are intimidating enough, but they pale in comparison to photos I have seen from Alaska. I wanted to show you one of these (amazing, scary, gorgeous) shots, but they seem to all be copyrighted, so you get to Google it yourself--or come visit!

As with many other things in life, though, the looks are just the start of the thing. We have to be more open-minded, or we will end up avoiding some of the most delicious foods, the most helpful medicines, and many interesting experiences. I remember hating beets growing up. Which is truly silly, because I had never tasted them. At the time, new was scary. Later, introduced to beets as a young adult in France, new was exciting, fresh, sophisticated.  This has repeated itself many times over in my life, and is a principle I try to teach my kids. Amazing things lurk in unassuming packages. Devil's club is a perfect example, as both a unique food and with powerful medicinal qualities, including the ability to balance blood sugar.

Always game for something new, we finally brought home a small paper bag-full of the fascinating-looking spring shoots (if you look at some of the online photos you'll see why I bought my first taste of this Spring treat.) Preston was hesitant to let us take so much. At first I thought that was due to having a limited quantity, hard-won at that (really, go look at the photos!) After a few minutes of back-and-forth discussions, I gathered that the real reason he was hesitant is an oft-repeated (but I am not sure ever substantiated) notion that the shoots are somehow "energizing", possibly even euphoria-inducing. I have seen a few comments online to the effect that the bark of the plant is stimulating--mildly so, not like, say coffee. But I have seen nothing that would lead me to believe that the shoots are anything but good eating.

Now that's what I mean by fresh and local!

Which, of course, they are. I sauteed some onion and leek, added the blanched devil's club shoots, and seasoned simply with salt, pepper and a bit of lemon rind. (Many wild greens profit from quick blanching to remove bitterness, though I am fond of bitter, and sometimes to remove strong chemicals that can be irritating. I don't know what about devil's club requires blanching, but I was following recommendations I had read--something I try to do, at least the first time I make a recipe!)

They were a marvelous accompaniment to grilled steak, resembling asparagus tips in appearance and the piney woods in taste. Actually, the first bites were pleasantly resinous, with a faint citrus aroma (before the lemon peel, that's why I added it), but the flavor mellowed as the meal continued. I am not sure if that is due to my acclimation or a change in flavor as the dish changed temperature or "ripened" somehow.

I had the leftovers with eggs the next morning--my favorite  breakfast is greens and eggs (a big thank you to Dr. Natasha, who started me on that path some years ago!) That might be an odd idea for some of you, but having veggies for breakfast, with eggs and/or meat, keeps my blood sugar stable, is delicious and keeps me satisfied for many hours. Try it!

Now, devil's club might not be on your Spring menu, I understand that. But how about real Spring asparagus? Not the year-round woody thing sold at supermarkets, but the Real Deal, found at farmer's markets and in gardens countrywide this time of year. And morels. And things I have already mentioned: nettles and dandelions, chickweed and miner's lettuce. What about Spring lamb? Did you know that lamb has a season? Most of our foods do, but we have become so separated from those rhythms that most of us would be hard pressed to identify the proper season for those foods. Mostly we now see this cycle as one of annoyance: the strawberries we can buy in January lack flavor, there are fewer pastured eggs available during the winter, and the local raw milk supply might dwindle. There are good reasons for all of that, ones we would do well to respect. Instead, we (as a culture)buy the inferior factory foods and gripe.

It doesn't really need to be that way. We can recover the joy of each food, each season, if we limit ourselves to what is fresh and local. Yes, we can have a more joyful eating experience by eating a more limited diet. The way this works is that we eat only what is at it's peak, what is freshest and most lovely in the moment. We can gorge ourselves on tiny June strawberries, knowing that this is the berry in it's perfection. And then we won't see them for another year, a small loss, but with the great anticipation it sets up for the coming return next year. If we treat each food this way, with the restraint and respect to only indulge when it is as close to perfect as can be found, then true pleasure--and health-- await us.

I don't want to belabor the point. If you want a thorough exploration, there is none more eloquent and entertaining than Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. If you haven't read it, that's a great place to start delving deeper into the world of local food, and it even has recipes (and a section on turkey breeding so hilarious I almost wet my pants reading it aloud to The Captain...)

Penguin and (unfinished) Platypus went into a bar...

A totally unrelated tidbit about kid's birthday presents:
(Spoiler Alert for my friend the public defender: contains photo and description of your daughter's birthday present. Don't. Say. A. Word.)
Blondina and I went shopping for her friend's birthday present. I thought we'd find something quickly and move on to our other errands. Instead, I had a child near tears, claiming that I always choose the presents, and that I don't like anything she picks out (yup, Large Commercially Produced Plastic Things, or things way beyond the budget are out of the question). I am a pain about kids' presents. I think they should be books or art supplies, if they are not handmade gifts from the heart.

While Blondina worked out her feelings about her ogre mother,  I sat and looked at the books I was interested in (for me, not for gifts). Eventually, she came back to where I was sitting (in a Very Cosy Chair) and glanced at the book in my lap. That's all it took. We had to buy the book. And then we went on an expedition to gather some of the makings of the adorable stuffed sock lovies in the book--socks, buttons, stuffing. We made a bag using this tutorial for a no-sew t-shirt bag. And we made a critter, loosely inspired by the book, to put in it.

How's that for a solution? A book, craft supplies and something homemade. The perfect gift! And the kids are all in love. Now I have to get a copy for us, because last night was a frenzy of searching for old socks wanting to be transformed into new friends.

While talking about making sock animals might be a digression from my regular topics, I want to point out that it's totally in concert with my general goals and ideals: it fosters independence and responsibility, is creative, it's homegrown, it creates joy and community. I would even say that making things by hand even contributes to good health--by reducing consumerism, slowing the pace of life down, and concentrating on something real, with or without friends and family to join in.

Here's to more new things in all of our lives!

What new things are you thinking of trying, either a food or new endeavor? Have you made something wonderful lately you would like to share?