There's been quite a gap in posts -- I was hoping the next post would be all about our new farm and how we found it and how gorgeous it is and when we get to move in etc. Nope, not to be. Its not as easy as all that! We've found a few places, but they've all fallen through for one reason or another (one was snatched away from us, after it should have been ours, by a guy willing to pay cash in the black...that so sucked!) so we just keep on looking. And now I'm resigned to the search taking its time, I can't wait until we have a farm to make the next post!
But, you don't need a farm to eat local all year round, though. I don't have my farm yet, but lots of other folks have theirs, and the abundant harvests of late summer and autumn make for cheap and plentiful veggies and fruits by the case or by the crate, so now i trawl the farmers markets looking for good excess harvest deals in bulk.
I was really expecting the canning and preserving and such to be a horrid nightmare of work and sweat and tomato peels in everything, but actually its lots of fun. I've so far put up 20kg of tomatoes, 11kg of apples, and 6kg of figs. And its so satisfying to see the shelf in the cellar fill up with jars of delicious fresh local and cheap food that I made myself and that will sustain us through the winter. Well, its not anywhere near enough to sustain us through the winter, but its a start!
To can tomatoes, boil them first, about one minute. Then dump them in a sink full of cold cold water, and the peels just slip right off. The flesh kind of pops out of the skin, easy peasy. Then cut them in chunks and heat to boiling. Boil for about 3 minutes, then put them in jars. Make sure the mouth is clean, and twist on the lids. At this point the recipes differ -- most people I know turn them upside down, and the air is pushed out and the seal pops in as the jar cools down. This is usually enough for tomatoes because they are pretty acidic, but not all tomatoes are acidic enough, so it could be risky. You could add citric acid to bring up the acidity if you are not sure how acid they are, or you could proceed with the totally sure hot water bath canning method instead of turning them upside down. Plop the jars into a canner with water covering them by at least a couple of centimeters over the lid, then boil continuously for about 40 minutes. Ugh, that's a bit of a pain, but its not actually work, just waiting. John Seymour has an alternative method using the oven instead of the boiling water, but I haven't tried that yet, and honestly i find it a bit scary...
For the apples, I made half into apple sauce and the other half into apple jam. I was going to make jelly, and then I read the recipe...ugh! you have to let it drain all night in a jelly bag, that's a pain in the butt! And I like jam better anyway! The apple sauce is really easy, just peel, core and section the apples (this would be hard without an apple corer sectioner thingy, I bought one right away before starting!), then cook 'em. A bit of water in the bottom of the pot so they don't stick, and cook 'em till they're soft. Then if you like it fine, whizz 'em or put them through a mill, but i like it chunky, so just squish with a potato masher. Then can as with the tomatoes. Apples are more acidic than tomatoes, so the upside down should work better, but I boiled em in the canner for 40 minutes just to be safe.
The jam was just 4kg cored, peeled, sectioned apples cooked with 1kg of sugar and 200gms of brown sugar, a big shake of cinnamon, and cook and cook and cook. I used a candy thermometer and brought it over 200f (it will splat everywhere, so I used a splatter guard cover thingie -- dishtowel works too, but is a bit cumbersome), then in the jars and upside down, and away it went. I like to use less sugar in my jam, and find that, depending on the fruit, I can substitute cooking time for sugar and pectin. If I cook it longer and hotter, it boils down and thickens enough anyway, even with little sugar and no added pectin. Not that there's anything wrong with pectin -- its a naturally occuring thing, not an icky chemical additive, i just have trouble finding it here so do without.
Now its coming up on pumpkin time, so I'm getting ready for soups and pies. We made a huge batch of pumpkin gnocchi this weekend, deeeeelicious! I prepare pumpkin puree by baking the pumpkin until its good and soft, then i just scoop it out, and its ready to use or put in plastic bags in the freezer.
Gab's off to see another property this afternoon, so still keeping optimistic, but in the meantime, there's still plenty to learn and do and experiment with...all will come in its own good time!
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Cat in the Hen House
Guess what?? Turns out cats like to chase chickens. Who'd a thunk it?
Only a day after FB's first escape, I took Mirco back to look at them and ALL the chickens were missing. AAGH! We went off searching for them, and found all but fat bastard...the only one that couldn't fly...coincidence? We're hoping so. There were no feathers around, anyway. We like to imagine him in the woods, re-establishing the wild chicken population.
Next day again, they all flew the coop...but this time we heard a major commotion first and saw the cat in hunting stance in the hedge. Cat got hosed, chickens caught. We thought she learned her lesson, but no -- two days later, another cat attack and alpacino ended up in the swimming pool. Gab was right there and picked him out before he got waterlogged, and the cat got hosed again.
A couple of days without incident, and then the neighbour brought me Alpha and Beta, who had wandered into her hedge. Then again the next day: this time we could only find Alpha, Beta and Al...Annie was missing. We searched for her everywhere, high and low, and didn't find her until Gab cleaned the pool that evening...in the filter skimmer. First casualty. (Picture shows Al and Beta)
And that was that -- next day was Friday, and Gab, Mia and Raff went back to the farmers market. They came home with a beautiful rooster, a grown bantam hen, a fully grown normal egg layer, and a beautiful little "pheonix" chicken. Its been fascinating watching them integrate and establish their relationships and pecking order.
The rooster is called Mr. President 'cause he's more beautiful than he is smart, and he likes the ladies. And we had just seen AlBorosie in concert and had been singing the song for a few days straight: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1tl1G995uPE. His wife, the white broody bantam with black tail, is of course Mrs. President. The phoenix is Fawkes (what else could we have called her?). And the layer is just "ovaiola". In the picture: Mr & Mrs President, Ovaiola (the big brown hen) and Beta.
Mr. President has taken to putting the girls to bed (we are having our doubts about Al...maybe he's a girl...no spurs, and no fighting with the Prez yet) and then he roosts outside up high in the trees behind the fence. Drama yesterday morning, when in classic politician style, Mr President swooped down from his high perch and landed on the wrong side of the fence. He was in a panic, trying to reach his ladies, crying all around. Too stupid to climb back up and try again, not creative enough to use the ramp Gab put for him, and too freaked out to let gab catch him, Gab eventually cut a hole in the fence and put bread by the hole. He had one direction only, straight ahead! Once he was through, we fixed the fence and all was fine!
Oh yeah, and no more cat problems. He may be stupid, but he keeps the cat away!
Gab is off to see about a piece of land today...maybe these characters will soon have a bigger better abode! Everyone send luck wishes that it works out, and the next post will be all about our new farm!
Only a day after FB's first escape, I took Mirco back to look at them and ALL the chickens were missing. AAGH! We went off searching for them, and found all but fat bastard...the only one that couldn't fly...coincidence? We're hoping so. There were no feathers around, anyway. We like to imagine him in the woods, re-establishing the wild chicken population.
Next day again, they all flew the coop...but this time we heard a major commotion first and saw the cat in hunting stance in the hedge. Cat got hosed, chickens caught. We thought she learned her lesson, but no -- two days later, another cat attack and alpacino ended up in the swimming pool. Gab was right there and picked him out before he got waterlogged, and the cat got hosed again.
The rooster is called Mr. President 'cause he's more beautiful than he is smart, and he likes the ladies. And we had just seen AlBorosie in concert and had been singing the song for a few days straight: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1tl1G995uPE. His wife, the white broody bantam with black tail, is of course Mrs. President. The phoenix is Fawkes (what else could we have called her?). And the layer is just "ovaiola". In the picture: Mr & Mrs President, Ovaiola (the big brown hen) and Beta.
Mr. President has taken to putting the girls to bed (we are having our doubts about Al...maybe he's a girl...no spurs, and no fighting with the Prez yet) and then he roosts outside up high in the trees behind the fence. Drama yesterday morning, when in classic politician style, Mr President swooped down from his high perch and landed on the wrong side of the fence. He was in a panic, trying to reach his ladies, crying all around. Too stupid to climb back up and try again, not creative enough to use the ramp Gab put for him, and too freaked out to let gab catch him, Gab eventually cut a hole in the fence and put bread by the hole. He had one direction only, straight ahead! Once he was through, we fixed the fence and all was fine!
Oh yeah, and no more cat problems. He may be stupid, but he keeps the cat away!
Gab is off to see about a piece of land today...maybe these characters will soon have a bigger better abode! Everyone send luck wishes that it works out, and the next post will be all about our new farm!
Friday, August 20, 2010
Fat Bastard Flees
So, the chickens. Gab's new love and light (yes, I am a bit jealous, just a wee bit! they get their lovingly chopped up leftovers before I get my morning coffee...).
We hadn't been back a week yet: the friday only 3 days after our return, still jet-lagged and groggy, we hauled ourselves off to the Montichiari farmer's market at 7 in the morning. (note: market for farmers, not of farmers, nothing to do with the pomo sunday pocket market...!). We asked at every chicken seller until we found one selling bantams (dwarf chickens, bred specifically for sitting on eggs, then when we are ready to have lots of chickens, we can hatch them ourselves). We brought home five of them, still to young to tell which were cocks and which were hens.
They stayed in an enhanced cardboard box house for 3 days while Gab built the finest little chicken house in Villa, all out of reclaimed material we had lying around. Just to give you an idea, these chickens have a terrace balcony with its own roost. There's a pulley system so we can open the door from our bedroom in the morning... Its a really nice little chicken house! (the roost isn't added yet in the picture -- those boxes on the side are the nests, for when its time to sit on eggs).
Everybody says "don't name the chickens", it will be harder to eat them after. But we couldn't help it, they started naming themselves. There's the lead cock, AlPacino (he's tiny, he's white, he's american, and badass). There's the cowgirl americanella (breed), "speckled annie", and I keep expecting her to get her gun. Or at least do anything I can do better. There's two hollandese (breed) that aren't particularly interesting, so they are alpha and beta. And then there's fat bastard. He's fat. He's a bastard. What more can I say? Oh, he's also dutch. He's double the size of any of the others in only a couple of weeks. In spite of his size, though, and in spite of many pecks and fights, Alpacino rules the roost.
Yesterday was the historic moment -- they had been living in the house for more than a week, the fence was finally completely up and secure. It was time to set them free! It took only a minute or two for them to realise that they could actually come out (beta was the last, she was...ummm...chicken).
They pecked around, explored, picked bugs and worms. Mia's rabbit brownie came to keep them company for a while. The cat showed enormous interest (we'll have to keep an eye on that!). And come sundown, like clockwork, they headed back all into their house for the night. Well, most of them did. We did a final goodnight check, and Fat Bastard was missing.
Gab looked everywhere, shook the hedge, looked under the woodpile, tromped all around the enclosure trying to find him or wake him and make him show himself. Oh no! We thought they were still too small to fly. Not Fat Bastard. (note: bantam chickens actually can fly, they are bred to have a low body weight since we don't eat them or want eggs from them, no farmer wants to spend too much money on their feed, and thus the ratio of wing to weight is enough that they can kind of hop-fly up into trees and such.).
Oh well, maybe he'll come back tomorrow, when he's hungry and thirsty. Then, getting ready for bed ourselves, we went out on the bedroom terrace and guess who was there fast asleep, roosting and pooping on the terrace railing? bastard! told you so! We grabbed him, and clipped his wing feathers right away (About 5cm off the end of the wing and they don't feel it at all) No more flying for you boy.
And this morning he was there, bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready for breakfast. This morning: wheatabix and milk, canteloupe and pasta.
We hadn't been back a week yet: the friday only 3 days after our return, still jet-lagged and groggy, we hauled ourselves off to the Montichiari farmer's market at 7 in the morning. (note: market for farmers, not of farmers, nothing to do with the pomo sunday pocket market...!). We asked at every chicken seller until we found one selling bantams (dwarf chickens, bred specifically for sitting on eggs, then when we are ready to have lots of chickens, we can hatch them ourselves). We brought home five of them, still to young to tell which were cocks and which were hens.
Everybody says "don't name the chickens", it will be harder to eat them after. But we couldn't help it, they started naming themselves. There's the lead cock, AlPacino (he's tiny, he's white, he's american, and badass). There's the cowgirl americanella (breed), "speckled annie", and I keep expecting her to get her gun. Or at least do anything I can do better. There's two hollandese (breed) that aren't particularly interesting, so they are alpha and beta. And then there's fat bastard. He's fat. He's a bastard. What more can I say? Oh, he's also dutch. He's double the size of any of the others in only a couple of weeks. In spite of his size, though, and in spite of many pecks and fights, Alpacino rules the roost.
Yesterday was the historic moment -- they had been living in the house for more than a week, the fence was finally completely up and secure. It was time to set them free! It took only a minute or two for them to realise that they could actually come out (beta was the last, she was...ummm...chicken).
Gab looked everywhere, shook the hedge, looked under the woodpile, tromped all around the enclosure trying to find him or wake him and make him show himself. Oh no! We thought they were still too small to fly. Not Fat Bastard. (note: bantam chickens actually can fly, they are bred to have a low body weight since we don't eat them or want eggs from them, no farmer wants to spend too much money on their feed, and thus the ratio of wing to weight is enough that they can kind of hop-fly up into trees and such.).
Oh well, maybe he'll come back tomorrow, when he's hungry and thirsty. Then, getting ready for bed ourselves, we went out on the bedroom terrace and guess who was there fast asleep, roosting and pooping on the terrace railing? bastard! told you so! We grabbed him, and clipped his wing feathers right away (About 5cm off the end of the wing and they don't feel it at all) No more flying for you boy.
And this morning he was there, bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready for breakfast. This morning: wheatabix and milk, canteloupe and pasta.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
The seeds are sown: Why a farm, and how we came to realise it
Sometime in the early days of 2010 Gab and I came to the realisation that something was missing in our lives. We had done everything we were 'supposed' to do -- we had found success, money, fancy house, lots of stuff. We had built a wonderful family, beautiful smart and accomplished kids. But still, deep satisfaction evaded us.
I wouldn't say we were unhappy, we had a certain satisfaction coming from the sense that we had done all we ought to be happy, but the feeling wasn't secure -- still something wasn't right. We were always making tiny adjustments -- kids to tennis instead of karate, new business model at work, paint the walls a different colour. I could never articulate the hole i was trying to fill, didn't know why things didn't feel as perfect as the picture they painted. I couldn't have defined it and certainly couldn't find the why or the wherefore, but I was always and constantly searching, poking, experimenting, trying to find the answer.
And thus our adventure to Canada: a one year house exchange with a family in Coquitlam. BC. It started as yet another experiment, looking for the answer to this niggling dissatisfaction -- maybe it wasn't us, maybe it was living in Italy. Maybe, if we were in Canada, we would find what we were looking for.
What we found, though, was completely unexpected. The year away from daily routines and the calciferous build up of habits, patterns, stuff and junk created a space of perspective -- a place where we could look on our lives and see what was important and what wasn't, what came with us and what didn't. At the same time, we started reading a series of books on global warming, local living, and lifestyle experiments -- No Impact Man By Colin Beavan, Eaarth by Bill McKibben, Animal Vegetable Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver.
And it started dawning on us: the problem wasn't where we were living, but how.
We had achieved the textbook standard for modern successful life, and it wasn't enough. Never enough. Life felt a bit like a hamster on a wheel. More work to get more money to buy more stuff. More activities for the kids, so they can be more accomplished and have more skills and talents, and thus grow into adults that can do more work to get more money to buy more stuff.
Actually living fell by the wayside. We had lost connection to the earth, cycles and seasons, the things that sustain us, the things we need to actually stay alive. We felt a profound need to live in harmony with our environment, sustainably and respectfully. To make the world a better place actually, really and physically -- restoring fertility to the soil by working it with respect. As Gab puts it, not to make the revolution, and but to simply be the revolution.
And thus the seeds were sown for our upcoming farm project. We started studying everything we could get our hands on about gardening, farming, chickens and goats, cows and pigs. I learned how to make cheese and bread. Gab learned how to tell a Leghorn from an Orpington, a Saanen from a Toggenberg. The more we read, the more we realised that it was all very definitely possible. Certainly not easy, but not beyond us either.
So now we are back in Italy and chomping at the bit to get things started. We are searching for the right property. Gab already has 5 bantam chickens, set up here in our house and being prepared to be the broodies for when the time comes to start raising lots of chickens. We have learned to cut hay, and the neighbours empty field is somewhat poorer in alfalfa and wild pea, but our chickens (and Mia's rabbit) will be well fed through the winter.
Sometimes i still have doubts: it will be a lot of work, will I feel trapped? How will the kids feel about being more remote, away from their friends? but at the same time I have a feeling of excitement for the adventure to come. Where once I felt a vague emptiness, I now feel full and right and light. That sense of connection, that deep rooted satisfaction that has evaded me all these years is actually starting to unfold --I can feel it, not an explosive arrival, but like a sunrise, slowing spreading across me, into me, through me. Thus this new day dawns for us, and we are ready to begin!
I wouldn't say we were unhappy, we had a certain satisfaction coming from the sense that we had done all we ought to be happy, but the feeling wasn't secure -- still something wasn't right. We were always making tiny adjustments -- kids to tennis instead of karate, new business model at work, paint the walls a different colour. I could never articulate the hole i was trying to fill, didn't know why things didn't feel as perfect as the picture they painted. I couldn't have defined it and certainly couldn't find the why or the wherefore, but I was always and constantly searching, poking, experimenting, trying to find the answer.
And thus our adventure to Canada: a one year house exchange with a family in Coquitlam. BC. It started as yet another experiment, looking for the answer to this niggling dissatisfaction -- maybe it wasn't us, maybe it was living in Italy. Maybe, if we were in Canada, we would find what we were looking for.
What we found, though, was completely unexpected. The year away from daily routines and the calciferous build up of habits, patterns, stuff and junk created a space of perspective -- a place where we could look on our lives and see what was important and what wasn't, what came with us and what didn't. At the same time, we started reading a series of books on global warming, local living, and lifestyle experiments -- No Impact Man By Colin Beavan, Eaarth by Bill McKibben, Animal Vegetable Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver.
And it started dawning on us: the problem wasn't where we were living, but how.
We had achieved the textbook standard for modern successful life, and it wasn't enough. Never enough. Life felt a bit like a hamster on a wheel. More work to get more money to buy more stuff. More activities for the kids, so they can be more accomplished and have more skills and talents, and thus grow into adults that can do more work to get more money to buy more stuff.
Actually living fell by the wayside. We had lost connection to the earth, cycles and seasons, the things that sustain us, the things we need to actually stay alive. We felt a profound need to live in harmony with our environment, sustainably and respectfully. To make the world a better place actually, really and physically -- restoring fertility to the soil by working it with respect. As Gab puts it, not to make the revolution, and but to simply be the revolution.
And thus the seeds were sown for our upcoming farm project. We started studying everything we could get our hands on about gardening, farming, chickens and goats, cows and pigs. I learned how to make cheese and bread. Gab learned how to tell a Leghorn from an Orpington, a Saanen from a Toggenberg. The more we read, the more we realised that it was all very definitely possible. Certainly not easy, but not beyond us either.
So now we are back in Italy and chomping at the bit to get things started. We are searching for the right property. Gab already has 5 bantam chickens, set up here in our house and being prepared to be the broodies for when the time comes to start raising lots of chickens. We have learned to cut hay, and the neighbours empty field is somewhat poorer in alfalfa and wild pea, but our chickens (and Mia's rabbit) will be well fed through the winter.
Sometimes i still have doubts: it will be a lot of work, will I feel trapped? How will the kids feel about being more remote, away from their friends? but at the same time I have a feeling of excitement for the adventure to come. Where once I felt a vague emptiness, I now feel full and right and light. That sense of connection, that deep rooted satisfaction that has evaded me all these years is actually starting to unfold --I can feel it, not an explosive arrival, but like a sunrise, slowing spreading across me, into me, through me. Thus this new day dawns for us, and we are ready to begin!
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