ONE TOWN SQUARE: at the intersection of peak oil, climate change, and land use

The worst of the cold weather is probably behind us, as spring approaches. The sun is out, and thoughts once again turn to the garden. It’s timely to review: how did our solarium perform over the short days and freezing nights of winter?

Adding thermal mass proved not to be enough to protect tender plants if outside temperatures dropped below ~25°. For the coldest nights, we needed to come up with a supplementary heat source. We use brooder lamps for ducklings. Why wouldn’t the same concept work for plants?

Electricity was the primary problem: a source wasn’t readily available, and providing a permanent hookup didn’t seem worth the cost or effort since power was needed only a few nights out of the year. So I wired an outlet at the solarium ceiling for two heat lamps to hang above our most sensitive citrus, an Improved Meyer Lemon and an Owari Satsuma Mandarin from One Green World that we planted right in the ground.

Power is provided when needed by plugging as extension cord into a male receptacle in a weatherproof exterior “inlet”.

This system works so well that we’ve moved into the solarium all of the cold-sensitive plants that we previously overwintered in the greenhouse. Space is at a premium in this 7? x 7? structure, so we’ve had to be inventive. Around the Yuzu Ichandrin, we installed shelving for pots . . .

. . . and above, a piece of ¾” pipe serves to hang containers.

Staggering the height of the plants allows more to be squeezed in along the pipe.

In the ground within the solarium, we’ve been growing herbs all winter long, herbs that otherwise wouldn’t grow in winter: cilantro, parsley, and an herb form of celery.

Fresh “cutting” or “soup” celery is great to have in the garden as celery, along with carrots and onions, are the three essential aromatic vegetables used in making stocks and sauces. Buying a whole head of celery in the store is wasteful. Although a good market will let you buy one stalk at a time, we’re a long way from a market. So keeping fresh celery on hand would otherwise be a challenge. Now all we have to do when celery is called for is wander outside -  with the solarium, any time of the year – pluck a few stalks, and tie them together with other herbs in a bouquet garni. Nichols has the seeds: VCE185, Afina. Plant seeds once, and from then on the celery will self-seed prolifically.

An added benefit: as long as I was wiring the solarium, I installed an outlet in the adjacent greenhouse to provide power for a heat mat. A heat mat will enable us to begin sprouting seeds in early February, a month earlier than would otherwise be possible. So it’s now time to begin perusing the seed catalogs and planning for spring plantings. Nichols and Territorial, here we come!

Last spring you planted cabbage seeds; then transplanted the seedlings out to the garden; watered and tended the cabbage plants all summer; harvested the cabbage heads in the fall; shredded and salted the cabbage and pressed it in a big crock.

It’s December, you’ve got a hundred pounds of sauerkraut sitting in the cellar. Now what? How often can you stomach sauerkraut with sausage?

We’ve found that we really like sauerkraut prepared with a variety of meats: pork belly, sausage, ribs of all kinds – pork, beef, lamb – and poultry, especially duck. Duck hindquarters work well, as they are best braised. The other day non-pork eating friends visitd. Sauerkraut with our own Muscovy duck seemed the perfect treat.

Since there were to be eight of us, we used the wings as well as the hindquarters, to ensure we had enough meat to go around.

Sauerkraut with Muscovy Duck

1.5 liters sauerkraut
2 Muscovy ducks
2  medium onions, diced (we substituted leeks)
1 apple, peeled and diced
12 juniper berries, crushed
2 whole cloves
1 small bit nutmeg, crushed
2 bay leaves
1 C duck stock (chicken stock, if you don’t have duck stock)
1 C white wine
Salt and pepper to taste

Rinse sauerkraut well (three times in fresh water) and drain.
Cut wings and hindquarters off carcass. Remove duck breasts and save for another meal. Reserve duck carcass for stock or soup. Trim duck fat and save.
Trim upper part of wing from lower 2/3, reserving middle part and wing tip for soup or stock. Separate leg from thigh; chop thigh into two pieces.
Render duck fat.
Brown duck pieces; when browned, remove.
Add diced onions and cook, stirring, until softened.
Add apple and cook a bit, then sauerkraut. Cook for  a few minutes, stirring.
Splash with white wine; add stock, then browned duck pieces, bay leaf, juniper berries, cloves and nutmeg.
Bring to simmer and cook, covered, for 1½ hours or until duck is tender. Season to taste.
Serve with mashed potatoes and a nice little pinot noir.

Here’s the finished product.

This recipe would work equally well with a stewing chicken, game hens, or a small turkey, and would be even tastier with the addition of some pork or sausage. The possible permutations are endless, offering myriad ways to enjoy your summer garden all winter long.

My sister complained that last week’s missive didn’t have any Thanksgiving photos. Hey, gimme a break – I was trying to get the newsletter out before the event. Anyhow, here you go, Peg!

Here’s the noble bird, before being sliced and served.

That’s a 20 pound, free range turkey from Joe and Karen’s Rain Shadow El Rancho, processed right on site at their own facility that does poultry other area producers as well (including our ducks). The turkey was Joe and Karen’s contribution to the dinner. Isn’t it wonderful to be part of a great community?

The photo shows the beer drinkers’ table. As you can see the beer is pretty local – Deschutes Brewery Black Butte Porter from just over the hill in Bend, smooth and creamy, perfect on a cold day while relaxing snug and toasty by the wood stove. Never fear, the La Ferme Noire Pinot Noir was flowing freely as well.

Each of the 20 guests brought something – in particular, I thought Kim’s chocolate chili was killer, even if it’s not what one might associate with Thanksgiving. It deserves to become a La Ferme Noire tradition – we’ll have to ask Kim for the recipe.

Irina made the beautiful orange soup in the photo.

AUTUMN SQUASH BISQUE WITH GINGER

Ingredients

2 tsp vegetable oil
2 cups sliced onion or leek
2 pounds winter squash, peeled, seeded and cut into 2 inch cubes (= 4 generous cups)
2 pears peeled, cored & diced
2 gloves garlic, peeled and crushed
2 tbsp fresh ginger, peeled and coarsely chopped (or 1 tsp powdered ginger)
½ tsp thyme
4 cups chicken or vegetable broth
1 cup water
1 tbsp lemon juice
½ cup plain non-fat yogurt (Greek yogurt is best)
Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation

1. Heat oil in large pot over medium heat
2. Add onions (leeks) and garlic and cook, stirring constantly until softened, 3-4 minutes
3. Add squash, pears, ginger and thyme, cook for 1 minute, stirring
4. Add broth and water; bring to a simmer
5. Reduce heat to low, cover pot and simmer until squash is tender, 35-45 minutes
6. Purée soup, if necessary in batches, in a food processor or blender
7. Return soup to pot and heat through. Season with salt, pepper and lemon juice; stir
8. Garnish each serving with a spoonful of yogurt

My contribution was to cook the turkey. Here’s how:

Two or three days before cooking:

1. Trim off wing tips, the neck, and Pope’s nose.
2. Dry  turkey inside and out and rub skin and cavity with a mixture of about 2 T coarse sea salt and 1 T of freshly crushed black peppercorns.
3. Put turkey on a rack inside a pan and then uncovered into the refrigerator to dry (this helps the skin to turn crispy during roasting).
4. Right then make the sauce. Throw turkey trimmings and giblets into a roasting pan, along with coarsely chopped carrots, celery, and onion.
5. Roast in a hot (~400°) oven until well browned and caramelized.
6. When turkey bits and vegetables are all well browned, removes from oven and place roasting pan on a burner. Splash in about a quarter bottle of dry white wine (an open bottle of pinot gris was handy) and scrape brown bits off the bottom of the pan with wooden spoon until they are dissolved in liquid.
7. Add chicken or other poultry stock (we had a couple of containers of chicken and duck stock in the freezer – a good quality store-bought stock such as Kirkland is okay, too) until turkey parts and vegetables are immersed and you have enough liquid for your sauce.
8. Add herbs and spices:  parsley, thyme, and bay leaf from the garden, a couple of whole cloves, perhaps a piece of star anise.
9. Bring to a boil and simmer for three hours or so.
10. Strain through a colander into another container and let cool.
11. When settled, spoon off the fat layer on top.
12. Refrigerate stock until ready to use. Having the stock finished on Monday means a lot less fussing when company is around on Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving Day:

1. Take turkey out of the refrigerator in the morning to warm to room temperature before going into the oven.
2. About two hours before serving place turkey, breast-down, on a rack in a roasting pan. Add ~two cups of prepared stock. Put into a pre-heated 450° oven, immediately reducing heat to 375°.
3. 45 minutes later, flip the turkey so it’s breast-side up.
4. About an hour and a half after going into the oven, the turkey will be done. An instant reading thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the flesh where the thigh connects with the body should register 150°. The result: a beautifully browned, tender, moist, and juicy bird.
5. Remove turkey to a warm platter and cover loosely.
6. While the bird rests a bit before slicing, bring the prepared stock and juices from roasting pan to a simmer.
7. Thicken sauce (I like to thicken with corn starch rather than flour – it’s easier to control and I think results in a more refined texture). Put a couple of heaping fork fulls of corn starch into a small container, add cold water, whisk with a fork until dissolved, then drizzle into the simmering stock while stirring. Let cook a couple of minutes until stock thickens.  Repeat until you get the texture you want.
8. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

For ease of carving and serving I first remove the hindquarters from the carcass, and then each breast in one piece.

Then the turkey is a snap to slice. You had to be quick: all the dark meat disappeared first.

And of course we had plenty of Irina’s famous bread, fresh, warm, and crusty from the oven.

Party animals that we all are these days, we had cleaned up and were in bed by nine.

The next day, the turkey carcass and all the leftover bones and trimmings went into the stock pot, along with aromatic vegetables (carrots, onions, and celery), fresh herbs (thyme, parsley, bay leaf), and a couple of whole cloves. A couple or three hours later, I strained the stock, set the bones aside to cool a bit, and put the stock back on the stove. I added a handful of barley (grown by our friends Paul and Nonie), sliced leeks, and diced carrots and turnips, all from the garden. When the turkey bones had cooled enough, I picked off the meat and added that to the pot, and then some diced potatoes. Simmer a bit more, until the potatoes are tender. Et voila! Turkey soup!

We’re now in to December, and we’re still harvesting broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and cauliflower from the garden – in fact, we have a new crop coming on, from the seedlings we transplanted out in August.

It’s pretty nice not to be dependent on the supermarket for vegetables, even in December. And really nice not to have to drive, or to travel at all, to get them. They’re right outside the door, fresh as can be.

After a cool start, summer is at last in full swing on the farm.

It’s that time of the year when we almost have more than we can eat, share, put up, give away, or feed to the ducks and sheep.

We’ve already got one batch of sauerkraut fermenting. Our new, stainless steel krauthobel was a joy to work with. Shed one head  into bus tub, add a little salt (1.5 oz per pound of cabbage) and mix, dump into sterilized crock, repeat until done.

The traditional wooden one Cousin Doris sent us last year from Germany was fine for a couple or three heads, but swelled as it became saturated and became more and more difficult to slide. Finally, the joints came unglued and it fell apart.

We picked only half the cabbage in our cabbage patch because that’s all our one crock could accommodate. The second crock that we bought new to use last year seeped – so we returned it as soon as the kraut could be taken out.  But now we’ve got another, pre-owned #10 crock, in great condition, found at the Antiques Mall in Albany. You can count on the old ones not seeping.

It’s been hard to find time to sit at the computer, writing blog posts. This time of the year, there’s more to do on the farm than there is time to do it, and I find myself rather working outside than sitting at my desk. But farm work leaves the mind free for thinking. I’ve been asking myself, what is the purpose of this blog, and why continue to do it?

We’re beyond the point where there’s any hope of inducing the changes we need to make as a society to deal with the realities of peak oil and climate change. The minds of the deniers will remain unpersuaded until the bitter end, and undoubtedly even beyond. To avert climate change, we would have to implement plans to cease burning fossil fuels immediately, bringing the global economy to a grinding halt. That’s just not going to happen, regardless of how catastrophic the consequences of not doing so. The consequence of failing to plan, on a societal level, for the inevitable involuntary halt in the consumption of fossil fuels, is the social and economic disruptions that are beginning to evidence themselves around the globe.

The aim of this blog is to chronicle how peak oil and climate change are playing themselves out. I seek to highlight the economic manifestations of peak oil, putting them in the broader context which most economists fail to see.  I want to communicate the signs of global warming and the climate changes it is inducing, as those signs manifest themselves.

And finally, I want to share with others our personal efforts to effect the change that we do have control over, to reflect on the changes we can make in our own lives that heighten our freedom of action and increase our flexibility to respond to an unknown future. The hope still remains that humans might not screw Earth’s climate up so badly that survival becomes impossible or pointless.

In light of the realization that we need to stop trying to “save the planet” and instead just realize our place in it, I’m thinking of my calling as Lebenskünstler. Life is an art form, to be lived as poetry. Paul Kingsnorth at Dark Mountain Project explains:

This is what [poetry] means: to counter the progressive narrative with all its fixations on expansion and control, on windfarms and transistor radios and electric cars and superstores and growth and measurement by results. To have time on our hands to sink into other ways of seeing. Poetry is the still point, the pole around which the chaos runs and circles, and the duty of the poet is to remain still, to watch, to report back in language which distills the essence of the movements all around her.

I may not have the soul of a poet. But perhaps I can chronicle. We can all sit.  Each of us has the capability to realize the mystery and the beauty within which we find ourselves. We all can do what we can. And that’s all anybody can expect.

We’ve been here on the farm sixteen years now, and it seems every season teaches new lessons.

The grape harvest was a complete fiasco. Despite an extraordinarily cool spring and late veraison, warm and dry weather in late September and early October held promise that a not-too-heavy crop would ripen. Brix hit 19° during the first week of October – another week or 10 days would get it to a perfectly acceptable ideal 21°.

Then the birds moved in. No problem, the propane canon always works. Nonchalantly, I set the canon out in the vineyard and go about my business. A few days later, I walk through the vineyard to take stock. The grapes are gone.

If I had paid attention to what was going on,  I could have dropped whatever else I was doing and patrolled the vineyard with a shotgun from dawn to dust for a week popping off the occasional starling or robin, a small investment in relation to the already-sunk investment in pruning, spraying, and trellising. But complacency means we’ll get perhaps 10 gallons of pinot this year instead of the two or three barrels that were in prospect.

Lesson: Pay attention! Don’t assume that what worked in the past will work this year.

Deer proved a challenge this year, as well. Spraying repellent on the vines once a week managed to prevent serious damage to the vineyard, but you can’t spray blood on vegetables you’re going to eat. Our strategy was to protect rows of crops with wire hoops made from remesh. Remesh works great to make coldframes, the wire mesh supporting plastic sheets under which we set out lettuces and other tender vegetables in early spring, tomato starts a bit later. When the weather gets warm enough, simply take the plastic sheets off and you’ve got a deer guard.

Lettuce and spinach under cold frame, peas under wire mesh

Two problems:  1) plants – peas, tomatoes, peppers, broccoli, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, turnips, parsnips, even carrots – eventually grow up through the mesh, where they can be chomped off; and 2) the 4? mesh, which is nice because it’s big enough to get your hands through to weed and pick, is also big enough so deer can get their snouts through.

Undamaged broccoli juxtaposed to cauliflower eaten by deer. Finer mesh prevents additional damage.

Brainstorm: deer can’t walk through the mesh hoops, and don’t seem to like risking jumping over them. What about a mesh field, surrounding the garden? This proved marginally effective.  To really work, you had to completely surround the area with an impenetrable maze of mesh. This became increasingly expensive, and increasingly clumsy. The mesh proved better at keeping us out of the garden than the deer.

Lesson: Protect the garden with a deer-proof fence. Anything less is futile. Since this is not possible where the garden is now, that means abandoning the raised beds and the soil we’ve been building for years, and moving the garden, starting over in a new location. We’ve already got the spot picked out. The raised beds will be used only for things deer don’t like or that can be well protected: herbs, cabbages, lettuces, maybe squashes and cucumbers. And flowers.

What worked out well this year? Cabbages: we harvested a bumper crop, and have ample sauerkraut for the winter. Winter squashes: again, ample stores in the cellar to last the winter. Lemon cucumbers: delicious cool, crisp salads all summer, and some pickled for storage. Leeks: they’re keeping well out in the garden, and we’re using them in just about everything. Broccoli and cauliflower, aside from the deer. Artichokes, which are now protected by a cold frame so hopefully they will become a perennial rather than an annual crop.

Artichokes protected in straw under cold frame

Ducks seem to be another successful experiment. They are proving able to forage well for themselves so they don’t require the purchase of much feed, are beginning to scour the garden for slugs and bugs, and are easy to care for,. not much trouble, fun to have around – and, as a bonus, lay a few eggs every day and provide meat on the occasion.

We had success this year starting many seedlings in the greenhouse and setting them out early, so as to get an early harvest. But for crops like cabbages, leeks, carrots, parsnips, and turnips, that can be good keepers either in the ground or in the cellar throughout the winter, it’s not necessary or even desirable for them to ripen early. Better to wait a bit. And for home consumption as opposed to for market, it’s better to plant crops periodically, so you harvest a little over a long period of time rather than a lot all at once.  We planted lettuce every week in seed trays in the greenhouse, transplanting the seedlings out throughout the summer as earlier plantings began to bolt. And now we’ve got a goodly amount under cold frame, which could survive and supply us with salad throughout the winter unless we get a really nasty cold snap. But we planted all the broccoli and cauliflower at the same time, ending up with more than we could possibly eat.

Maybe next year, we’ll finally begin to know what we’re doing.

Seems like I’ve been so busy in the garden and on the farm lately that I’ve found no time to report. Let’s catch up.

We transplanted the starts out of the greenhouse and into the garden in March and April – first lettuces, peas and tomatoes under cold frames; then onion, leek & garlic starts, cauliflower and cabbages. Due to the cold, soggy spring, the winter & summer squash and cucumbers didn’t go out until late May. Bean seeds then went directly into the ground, along with red, white, and yellow potatoes.

We’ve been eating fresh lettuces since May, and are now steadily replanting every couple of weeks, growing them under a shade cloth (which seems to help retard bolting). The asparagus we let go around the first of July, to gain strength for next year. We’ve been digging potatoes and picking raspberries since early July. Mid-July, we harvested the garlic – the braids are now hanging in the wine/root cellar.  We also pulled the spring crop of peas in Mid-July, at the same time planting seeds in the greenhouse for a fall crop. Luckily, green beans are now starting to come on, as are summer squash. We should have our first tomatoes by early August. If the jalapeños and cilantro cooperate, we’ll soon be swimming in pico de gallo. And the pansies, violas, and nasturtiums we started in the greenhouse from seed are now blooming like crazy, along with the sunflowers. This year we serendipitously planted the sunflowers in rows along one side of the garden – and they’ve proved to be an effective deer fence!

Last weekend we harvested the “Stonehead” cabbage and started a big batch of Sauerkraut. After watching us struggle last year trying to shred cabbage in a food processor, Cousin Doris sent us a Krauthobel from Germany – kind of a big, wooden mandolin. Here it is in operation.

Add about three tablespoons of sea salt for every five pounds of cabbage, and then from the bus tub into the crock.

40 pounds of cabbage was enough to pretty much fill a #8 crock.

The “Megaton” cabbages should be ready to harvest in a week or so. Since our one and only ceramic crock is already full, we’ll have to fall back on a 20-gallon food grade plastic container that we’ve been using to store flour. Hopefully this year we’ll have enough Sauerkraut to last well into the new year, rather than running out before the holiday season.

Turn your back this time of the year, and the grape vines want to take over the universe. I’ve been getting up at six o’clock in the morning now for the last few weeks, spending a couple of hours before heading to the office trying to get things back under control. At least the vines are now growing faster than the deer can eat them. I’m dreaming of mid-August, when I’ll again be able to sleep in a bit.

The big culinary hit this year has been a variation on the Alsatian/German Flammkuchen, a kind of “pizza” traditionally made with crème fraîche, Speck, and onions, seasoned with a little fresh nutmeg. I first tasted Flammkuchen at a little jazz club called the Musikantenbuckel, literally underground in an ancient stone building in the tiny village of Oberotterbach, Germany. We’ve ever since attempted to replicate that, substituting well trimmed, uncured pork belly for the unobtainable Speck – not really the same, but American bacon is way too smoky. We tried first boiling bacon to remove some of the smokiness, but have since settled on using uncured pork belly, well-trimmed to remove most of the fat.When vegetarian friends were visiting we made a version using fresh, locally gathered or grown mushrooms (golden oyster, white elm, and morels) and fresh leeks. It was so fabulous it has now become a permanent part of our repertoire.

A few days of blue skies and warm sunshine is all it takes to turn one’s thoughts to spring.

Over the last week of clear weather, temperatures have been cool at night – like in the low twenties – but have been getting up to the low or even mid-sixties during the day. In the greenhouse, minimums are in the low forties, with maximums reaching the low seventies. Time to plant seeds!

Two weeks ago I planted seeds left over from last year: the first batch of lettuces, and herbs – parsley, chervil, cilantro. Those seeds have already sprouted. As soon as the plants are big enough, they’ll be set out in cold frames, where we’re still harvesting lettuces planted last fall.

This weekend, after a seed-buying expedition to Nichols in Albany, it was an orgy of planting. Six types of lettuces: Australian Yellow, Black-Seeded Simpson, Flashy Butter Oak, New Red Fire, Red Velvet, and our old favorite Merlot. Artichokes, to replace any that may not have survived the brutal cold of early December (at least some old plants show signs of new growth, too soon to know how many). Two new varieties of cabbages – Megaton and Stonehead – to expand on last year’s very successful experiment with sauerkraut. Cauliflower: Snow Crown and Cheddar. Lemon cucumbers. Tomatoes: Oregon Spring, Siletz (would have planted Legend, but I proved to have saved an empty seed packet). Peas, snap and sugar pod. Winter squash – Cornell’s Bush Delicata, our favorite (I know, it seems awfully early, but you catch the planting bug . . . ). And flowers! Sunflowers, pansies, violas, nasturtiums, all in several varieties and mixes. All to be set out at the appropriate time.

Even with all this planting, the greenhouse isn’t even near full. No more seed trays in the windowsills in the house!

We got a whole selection of commercial-grade seed trays in various plug sizes from Yarnell’s Red Barn nursery in Stayton – for a mere dollar each. The planting mix we made ourselves, from compost run through our Steinmax chipper-shredder.

Garlic, onions, and shallots have been in the ground since last fall. Oops, forgot the leeks! Put that on the list for the next visit to Nichols, along with Legend tomato seeds and doubtless a few others we’ve overlooked.

Over the weekend we raised the borders of the herb garden and added several inches of compost. Got the raspberries pruned, and dug up a couple of dozen plants to give away to friends.

Now comes the true test of the greenhouse, to see if we can sprout all these seeds with no heat other than from passive solar gain, and no protection from cold other than thermal mass and insulation.