Waxing Poetic (farm blog)
A humbling harvest day indeed
You know the joke about people who do cross-fit, right? Something like “how do you know if someone does cross-fit…don’t worry, they’ll tell you.” But have you ever seen a cross-fit session? I have. And I totally don’t blame anyone for telling us they do cross-fit. It’s insane!!! If I did anything like that, I’d want to brag about it too! At least I would the first time I was able to complete a session rather than crawl (no way I’d be walking upright) out of there early in tears. I mean, it’s humbling to watch.
Don’t get me wrong, I believe in the humbling nature of challenging activities. After all, I farm for a living. As I write, the rain pounds down upon an already saturated earth and all those poor sensitive crops outside. Those glorious peppers with all our hopes. Just when you think you’ve got a crop figured out, a new disease/insect/other random problem arrives on the scene, lest you think you were in control.
This is the incredible humbling nature of agriculture. To put you in your infinitesimal place in the grand scheme of the universe and remind you that you are not in control.
But you are in control of your kitchen and we are still harvesting the crops of late summer, so what better time than now for some Robust End of Summer Spaghetti:
Robust end-of-the-summer spaghetti
1 1/2 to 2 pounds eggplant, peeled and sliced a scant 1/2 inch thick
2 red or yellow bell peppers, or one each, halved lengthwise
1/4 cup olive oil, plus extra for eggplant
1 onion, finely diced
1 garlic clove, minced
3 anchovies, chopped
1/3 cup chopped parsley, plus extra for garnish
2 pounds ripe tomatoes, peeled, seeded and chopped
1/4 cup kalamata or gaeta olives, pitted and chopped 3 TBS capers, rinsed 1 TBS dried oregano sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 pound spaghetti
1 cup grated pecorino romano or parmigiana-reggiano cheese
Preheat the broiler. Brush a sheet pan lightly with oil, arrange the eggplant on it, and brush the tops with more oil. Broil on both sides until browned, 12 to 20 minutes per side. Remove and cut into wide strips. Lightly oil the peppers, then broil, skin side up, until blistered. Stack them on top of one another to steam for 15 minutes, then peel and dice into small squares. Heat the 1/4 cup oil in a Dutch oven. Add the onion, peppers, garlic, anchovies and the parsley. Sauté over medium-high heat until the onion and peppers are softened, about 5 minutes. Lower the heat and add the eggplant, tomatoes, olives, capers, oregano, and 1/2 cup water or juice from the tomatoes. Season with salt and pepper and simmer for 30 minutes. Cook the pasta in a large pot of boiling salted water until don, then drain. Place in a large heated bowl. Present at the table with the vegetables spooned over the top and showered with the cheese and extra parsley. Toss before serving.
Recipe from Local Flavors by Deborah Madison
Is it strange to whistle in public? I don’t mean whistling at someone, or at a show or sporting event, but to just whistle a tune. Because yesterday, I got a strange double take or two while whistling a tune in the grocery store.
I spent most of the day in Jason’s kitchen canning and had run out of jar lids so I ran down to the local grocery store to pick up some more. I wasn’t even aware that I was whistling until the gentleman in front of me turned his head around to look at me. I caught his eye, so he felt like he had to explain that he thought I might be a friend of his who “will do that”.
It occurred to me then that whistling a tune in public might be a bit unusual. This is not the first time I’ve found myself traipsing around in my own little world while actually in public. I lived alone with my cat in college for a bit and my cat, you see, was very social (wink wink). He was interested in absolutely everything I did so I would tell him what I was doing all the time. Or so I told myself.
One day I found myself in the cafeteria with a baked potato, which needed sour cream. So I said “I’m going to get some sour cream” as I did so. I glanced up at some point to find this student had completely stopped what he was doing to stare at the wonder that was me. I didn’t have to ask. I knew I had just told no one in particular that I was going to get some sour cream out loud.
Alas, old habits die hard I suppose.
This week's recipe of the week is inspired by a lovely Romanian customer who purchases lots of eggplant to make an old family recipe for "salad" or dip. She brought me some already prepared to try out. Everyone, even the kids! loved this eggplant dip. She had the recipe painstakingly written down for me but I don't yet have it up on the web. It is, however, a lot like this Baba Ganouj so here's the recipe for Baba Ganouj:
Makes 4 servings
This popular Mediterranean dip is generally served with pita bread or crostini, but can also be a main course served with pasta.
2 small eggplant
A little oil for baking
2 medium sized cloves garlic or more, to taste
Juice of one lemon
1/4 cup sesame tahini
1/2 teaspoon salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Crushed red chili pepper or chopped fresh cayenne pepper
Preheat oen to 350°. Lightly oil a baking sheet. Slice the eggplant in half lengthwise, and place the halves open side down on the baking sheet. Bake for 30 minutes, or until very tender. Cool to the point at which the eggplant can be handled comfortably. Scoop all the eggplant pulp from the skins. Place in a blender or food processor fitted with a steel blade, along with garlic, lemon juice, tahini and salt. Puree until smooth. Transfer to a large bowl, and season to taste with black and red pepper. Serve with pita bread or crostini as a dip, or with pasta as a main course.
From Still Life With Menu Cookbook by Mollie Katzen
I have habits. You have habits. We all are creatures of habit. Even hoses have habits. Ever try to wrestle a garden hose? It ought to be a Olympic sport (mental note for next year’s farm Olympics). Our lives seem to physically mold around our habits and wrestling our way out of old ones or into new ones can cause just as many frustrated tangles as hose wrestling.
I’ve wrestled a hose or two in my time. Depending on how long ago a hose habit was formed, changing it might even cause the hose to spring a leak! That’s why I’ve never tried quit biting my nails. It’s a habit nearly as old as I am, and changing it now seems downright dangerous! It doesn’t seem worth the risk.
Here's a habit worth the risk: eating seasonally (your taste buds will thank you!). We're in the peak of tomato and pepper season and nearing the end of cucumber season so it's time for gazpacho!
· 2 cucumbers
· 2 red, orange, or yellow bell peppers, or 3-4 red, orange, or yellow Italian peppers
· 1 clove garlic, minced
· 3 scallions, sliced
· 1 small tomato, diced
· 1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
· 1/2 jalapeno chile, chopped
· 2 1/2 cups vegetable juice
· 4 teaspoons olive oil
· 1 tablespoon cider vinegar
· Salt and pepper
1. Peel, seed, and finely dice cucumbers and bell peppers. Place in a bowl, and combine with garlic, scallions, tomato, parsley, and jalapenos.
2. Add vegetable juice, oil, and vinegar; season with salt and pepper; stir to combine. Cover with plastic wrap; refrigerate until ready to serve, up to 2 days.
Recipe from Martha Stewart
Summer produce rainbow (I didn't take a picture of the air hose--it just wasn't as pretty)
The Kawasaki Mule has been misbehaving recently. We hemmed and hawed and wrung our hands and googled. It’s the throttle body! It’s dirty gas! It’s the fuel injectors. By now, its gas tank is probably more additives than gas. Still the problem persisted.
Yesterday, I had a couple of minutes and actually looked at the engine compartment. Right there before my eyes was a very obviously cracked air hose. I stuck my finger over the crack and lo and behold, the engine began to idle normally. I had simply not thought about actually looking at the engine.
I’ve been looking for a life lesson in that ever since. “Don’t forget to look in front of you”? “Just put your finger over the hole and everything will be better”?
Perhaps the life lesson is just as obvious if you just look before you just start adding stuff to make you feel better.
It's pepper season y'all! My favorite food. So this week's recipe of the week is a perennial favorite around here (easy and SO delicious it could be called dessert but we get to call it a vegetable)
· 6 Large Sweet Peppers (I Used 2 Yellow, 4 Red)
· 1/3 Cup Extra Virgin Olive oil
· 2 Garlic Cloves, Peeled & Minced
· 1/3 Cup Balsamic Vinegar
· Salt & Pepper
· 1/3 Cup Fresh Chopped Parsley
1. Wash and dry the peppers, then remove the seeds, stems, and membranes.
2. Cut the peppers into 1 inch strips.
3. Heat the oil in a large heavy bottomed skillet and add the peppers, stirring well to coat in the oil.
4. Cook the peppers over medium heat until they begin to soften and brown, stirring often, about 10 minutes.
5. Add the garlic and cook another minute or two until fragrant.
6. Add the balsamic vinegar, season with salt and pepper and mix well. 7. Cook another 3 to 4 minutes until the peppers have absorbed all of the vinegar.
7. Toss with the fresh chopped parsley and place on a platter to serve.
The fruits of the Julyvalanche
You’re swimming. Your head is above water. But the current is strong and is sweeping you downstream faster than you want to admit to yourself. You’re fatigued, but know that until you reach calmer waters, you need to keep paddling just to keep your head above water. So you just keep paddling.
This is what the weeks feel like now. I heard a farmer friend call it the Julyvalanche. Everything is happening now. At the end of each day, I think the end of the week will be a break in action—a moment to relax and breath, but when Sunday arrives, there are always still things to do—house to clean, okra to pick, laundry to wash. And then Monday whirls around again like a riptide and we’re off again.
I know the shore will come. It always does. We never actually drown. By now, we are intimate with the cycles of farm life. And now, well, now is the Julyvalanche.
The fruits of Julyvalanche make the chaos worth it. For out of the chaos comes my favorite food: peppers. Peppers of all kinds. Sweet, hot, tangy, not. The chiles tend to be less hot at the beginning of their season (now), which means it's the perfect time for Poblanos Chiles Rellenos!
Poblano Chiles Rellenos
The filling can be improvised with whatever you have on hand. We always stuff them with cheese and whatever we find--often I put chopped sweet peppers in the cheese, whole corn kernels, but I've been told that they are excellent stuffed with mashed potatoes.
4 medium poblanos, roasted and peeled
2 oz sharp cheddar cheese or Mexican melting cheese (we also really enjoy Fontina cheese for this application)
2 oz soft, mild goat cheese, at room temperature (if I don't have this on hand, I just use the fontina cheese alone)
1/2 cup drained hominy, coarsely chopped (or fresh sweet corn kernels cut from the cob)
3 cups peanut oil or corn oil
3 eggs, at room temperature
1 TBS water
3 TBS unbleached all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp salt
Cut a vertical slit in one side of each chile and, with a fingertip, scrape out as many seeds as possible without tearing the chile. In a small bowl, stir together the cheddar cheese, goat cheese, and hominy (or other ingredients you choose). Stuff one-quarter of the cheese mixture carefully into each chile. Gently press the slits closed.
In a large skillet over medium-high heat, warm the oil to 375 degrees. Meanwhile, separate the eggs, transferring the whites to a medium mixing bowl and the yolks to a wide shallow bowl. Whisk the egg yolks and water together. Whisk in the flour and salt. With a clean whisk or beater, whip the egg white to soft peaks. Thoroughly stir one-third of the whites into the yolk mixture. Gently fold in the remaining whites; do not overmix.
Dip a chile into the batter, coating it thoroughly. With a pancake turner, carefully lower the chile, slit side up, into the hot oil. Immediately baste the upper side of the chile with hot oil (this seals the slit and prevents melted cheese from oozing out). Repeat with the remaining chiles.
Recipe from Chiles by W. Park. Kerr
This past winter I went down a rabbit hole. What began as a new obsession with behavioral economics soon morphed into self-improvement. I know, I know, it’s a leap, right? But behavioral economics teaches us about human behavior and an understanding of our own behavior can lead us into improving that behavior.
It’s now mid-July and I’ve been down in that rabbit hole since sometime last year. Listening to book after book on changing my mindset, improving the workplace, motivation, creating unique customer experiences, learning learning learning.
Just as our bodies wear out about now from the constant physical part of our work, it turns out our minds can wear out from all that learning. I rely on audiobooks to keep me awake for that super early Saturday rise and load and drive to market, and last Saturday I’d finally just had enough of the non-fiction. The drive had begun to feel long again after many years of not even noticing the distance.
So I downloaded a young adult dystopian fiction novel and like magic, the drive suddenly wasn’t long enough. I arrived at market suddenly like I’d just driven to the neighbor’s house and indulged in a few “driveway moments” before getting to work.
Don’t fret teachers, I will get back to the learning. Sometimes, one just needs a vacation from self-improvement. I mean, don’t we need some time to just sit back and enjoy the improvements we’ve already made? Like we’ve just built a new deck—we don’t want to just rush into the next improvement project without even spending a moment just enjoying the new deck right? So yeah, I’m on a self-improvement vacation.
I definitely think this heirloom tomato tart is improving my self though (maybe that's just improving my mood, but that counts right?). This is definitely on of our favorite summer tomato dishes.
Recipe of the week:
6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling ·
8 sheets of phyllo dough, thawed ·
1/2 cup fine dry breadcrumbs ·
8 ounces cream cheese ·
1/4 cup mayonnaise ·
1 1/2 pounds mixed heirloom tomatoes, thinly sliced ·
Flaky sea salt ·
Basil leaves, for garnish
Preheat the oven to 375°. Brush a large rimmed baking sheet with 2 teaspoons of the olive oil. Lay 1 sheet of the phyllo dough on the baking sheet; keep the rest covered with damp paper towels. Brush the phyllo with 2 teaspoons of olive oil and sprinkle all over with 1 tablespoon of the breadcrumbs. Repeat the layering with the remaining phyllo, olive oil and breadcrumbs.
Bake the crust for about 25 minutes, until golden and crisp; rotate the baking sheet halfway through cooking. Let cool completely.
In a food processor, pulse the cream cheese with the mayonnaise until smooth. Spread the cream cheese mixture in the center of the tart, leaving a 1/2-inch border all around. Arrange the tomato slices on top and sprinkle with flaky sea salt and pepper. Drizzle lightly with olive oil and garnish with basil leaves. Cut into squares and serve.
The blog is on vacation this week. Please enjoy this picture of the farm instead.
Do you ever have a disagreement with someone that doesn’t go as well as you rehearsed a thousand times in your head? And afterwards, you spend an inordinate amount of time in autopsy mode regretting, wishing you could do it over, and rehearsing the next conversation?
How many times have you been told to just “let it go”? Move on. Face forward. Well that’s how we feel about this past spring. I hope you didn’t notice, but we had a bit of a rough spring this year. Incessant rain and flooding proved an insurmountable challenge to some of our spring crops, and I have to admit that our spirits took a bit of a hit as well. But we’re practicing the art of letting it go. Of moving on. Of facing forward.
And so I find myself turning my back on the spring fields and scouring the summer crops for good news. And, as it turns out, there is plenty! I just have to look for the right thing. If I look for disappointment and problems, I will find them. But if I look for the good, I’ll find that! It seems so simple! Yet isn’t it ever so hard to do this? Don’t you sometimes just want to wallow? (asking for a friend).
Lucky for us, the farm season moves along far too swiftly to hang out with failures too long. I’ll be walking by, innocently nursing some disappointment, and what do I behold? Some ripe sungolds! A ripening pepper! A little bean! And boom, I’ve let go. Moved on. Faced forward.
By now, I’m sure you’ve heard of a “bucket list”. You know, things you want to do/see before you kick the bucket. Bucket lists are often full of grandiose things like visit the Taj Mahal, climb Mt. Everest, or swim in the dead sea. Or maybe those are just the bucket lists I’ve heard of.
My bucket list is much more low key. It contains things like float the rivers as often as possible, pet as many kittens as is reasonable, porch sit with the people I love.
Don’t get me wrong, I will jump at the first chance to eat in Italy or Spain or see the salt flats of Bolivia, but it’s not a burning desire that I feel I must accomplish before I die. It’s those smaller things that fill up my heart with happy. So I’ll do my best to keep checking those things off repeatedly from my bucket list.
I claim to be anti-body shaming. I say “diversity is strength” and “it takes all kinds”. But here I am, body-shaming vegetables all day long! Just look at our edible rejects counter! Tomatoes with slight malformations, cucumbers too skinny, zucchini too fat, carrots with an extra limb—smells a lot like hypocrisy to me.
Don’t worry though, we do still believe that there’s someone for everyone and usually, all the edible rejects get adopted by someone here at the farm. In fact, if there were no rejects, I’m not sure what the farmers would eat!