Archive for February, 2008

I’ve (Still) Got Worms, and More on Meat

February 27, 2008

I appear to be reaching an agreement with my composting worms (see previous post). After a few attempts at mass Exodus, my red wrigglers seem to have given up the fight and resigned themselves to eating my garbage. Every morning, there are a few huddled around the upper lid of the bin, but I don’t hold these few outlaws against the worm community as a whole. I’ve moved the bin into the shower stall with my greenhouse, for a big circle-of-life arrangement in one place.

Meat, Continued

As mentioned last post, I’ve worked my way through increasingly unprocessed cuts of chicken, from boneless skinless frozen breasts to a whole, plucked bird. This weekend, I stuffed a roaster with some wild rice and cranberries, skewered it shut, and dropped it in my beloved 12-inch cast iron pan. I put it in a very hot oven (450 degrees F), then lowered the temperature into the 300s. The high heat seared the bird, so as to retain its moisture. I cooked it for around 20 minutes per pound, spooned some of the drippings over the bird every 10-20 minutes, and put some potatoes and carrots in with it for the last half hour or so.

This bird came out so beautiful I could hardly stand it. It looked like I needed some buckled shoes and a bunch of Indians just to put it into context. It was delicious. My wife and I only managed to eat about 1/8th of it, so we’ve had chicken tacos, chicken sandwiches, cold chicken, and still have leftovers. I simmered the bones, skin, and wings for about 3 hours for about a quart of stock, which I’m going to use as the base of a potato-purslane soup that will help me clear out some of last year’s holdings before this year’s garden starts putting out.

On my way home from the grocery megastore, I passed a local farm’s meat outlet, which I’ll have to check out. Wife and I worked out a tentative plan to buy a share in an animal or two this fall, when we’re firing up the chest freezer to handle our garden surplus. Until then, we’re going to make the transition from supermarket meat to local/farmer’s market meat.

Grocery Shopping

I don’t really have a plan on localizing my convenience food purchases, other than cutting down on them. Potato chips, taco shells, and prefabricated pad thai don’t come in local versions. In addition, I picked up I-don’t-know-where carrots, apples, and oranges. I’ve got carrots and apples going into the yard this spring, but I’m going to have to find a citrus replacement.

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I’ve Got Worms

February 21, 2008

Seeing as I’m writing a weblog on local foods in the dead of winter, I hope I can be forgiven for a slightly off-topic entry. Yesterday, I recieved a belated Christmas gift–a pound of red wriggler composting worms. My in-laws live in Kalamazoo, which would be ground zero for the worm-composting movement, if there were such a thing. The author of Worms Eat My Garbage, now deceased, lived there, and her organization continues to sell worms and vermicomposting supplies. Because this particular species of worm is cold-sensitive, I couldn’t have them sitting on my doorstep until I came home. My exceedingly generous and accomodating father-in-law delivered them on a trip through town.

Vermicomposting Basics

I’m trying to make this weblog beginner-friendly, so I’m going to run through the basics here. If you know anything about composting with worms, this next section is worth skipping.

Unlike the earthworms we’re familiar with in the Great North, red wrigglers spend all of their time very near the surface, where the soil is composed of mostly organic material. Because they don’t burrow and hibernate like earthworms, they won’t survive through a heavy or deep frost. They are, however, well suited for close quarters, and are able to convert an impressive volume of organic waste into “castings”, or worm manure.

My “worm bin”, which I prepared ahead of time, is an opaque Rubbermaid-style storage bin. I filled it about 3/4 full with shredded 2006 income tax instruction forms (available mid-April by the thousands at your local library) and wet the newsprint down. As recommended by Worms Eat My Garbage, I added 3 times the weight of the paper in water, aiming for a damp-not-soggy moisture level. More on this later. The worms “chew” by grinding food up with soil particles in a gizzard, so I added a dead houseplant, with its soil, to provide some grit. On top of it all, I dumped my worms. I left the lid off until the light-sensitive worms retreated into the newsprint bedding. I made my first deposit, burying some moldy home-baked bread under an inch or so of wet, grey paper.

The Process So Far…

The next morning, I eagerly checked in on my worms. Apparently, my bedding was too wet, which provided me with a truly horrifying first morning with my worms. Worms, as it turns out, breathe through their skins, which must be kept moist. If it’s too moist, however, they start to drown. This is why the sidewalks are covered with waterlogged earthworms after a good rain. Not having a sidewalk available, my worms climbed out of their too-wet bedding and congregated along the upper lip of the bin.

Now, I’m not the squeamish type, but hundreds of squirming, bloated redworms are an unpleasant sight, somewhere between a horror film and the sex-ed photos of STDs in their advanced stages. I added some more dry newsprint to balance the moisture level, pushed my worms back into the fray, and hoped for the best. This afternoon, things seemed to be on the level, so I think I’m OK. I hope to find all of the dessicated remains of escaped worms before my wife does.

Good Intentions

The plan with the worm bin, and the connection with the whole local-food thing, is pretty simple. The castings are a nutrient-rich plant food, like any manure. Unlike most animal manures, it can be applied to plants fresh. Also unlike most animal manures, I don’t have to drive ten miles out of the city to get it. This, along with the “worm tea” that can be drained off, will be put to use in my greenhouse to get my seedlings off to an organic start. Last year’s greenhouse seedlings were a pretty pathetic lot, because I didn’t fertilize them. This year, I may have to resort to a dilute chemical fertilizer until my worms get their act together. The most frequently suggested organic alternative, made out of fish waste, is a little scary in terms of heavy metal (lead, mercury, &c.) content, and I’d sooner use a known chemical than an unknown contaminant.

An added benefit is that I’ll be able to continue composting without making the long, long journey through the deep, deep snow to the compost bin at the far end of the yard. A bin in the basement makes for a much more enticing trip, which may result in a more-often-emptied slop bucket. Most of our vegetables come from produce we froze last summer, so there isn’t a lot of waste being produced. Hopefully, our worms can keep up with production. My complimentary book says that my worms can process 1/2 their collective weight in garbage a day, so this should work out.

In Other News

I filled the last of my seed needs at the sales at my local Flowerland, and have thinned my flats of lettuce, spinach, snapdragons, and annual poppies. The asparagus has not yet sprouted, but I think I’m still within their germination window.

As I watch the footage that inspired our nation’s largest-ever meat recall, I had to face my biggest why-aren’t-you-doing-this-already food problem–meat. I gave up vegetarianism a few years ago (for reasons I may get into later) and didn’t develop my meat-buying instincts while I was learning how to shop for myself. I’ve decided that I don’t want to be eating cows that are too sick to walk onto the killing floor, and will finally start choosing local meat when it becomes available at the farmer’s market.

Meanwhile, I am buying increasingly unprocessed cuts at the grocery store. Last week’s shopping trip saw the move from frozen, boneless, skinless chicken breasts to fresh, boned, skinned chicken thighs, and this week I bought a whole bird. I think I’m going to roast it, Thanksgiving-style. I might cut the next one up, depending on how that goes. My aversion to local meat in the past stemmed from the fact that I didn’t know how to handle an entire bird, or unground chuck, or what have you, so I’m going to be ready this year.

Winter Foraging, and Preparing for Spring Gardens

February 9, 2008

Back in the day when human beings depended on foraging for survival, there was not, I suspect, a lot of people spending winters in the Michigan area. I started this weblog as motivation to try new local and wild foods, but my decision to start in the dead of winter may have been a little misguided. Regardless, I’ve come up with a few snowbound topics.

Rose Hips

Not quite “wild”, but definitely local–the rose bush in my backyard, the last survivor of three planted by the previous owner, bloomed fairly well this year. I dutifully dead-headed, cutting off blooms that were past their prime. This ritual stimulates the rose to continue blooming. As fall approached, I let the rose blossoms mature, lose their petals, and set fruit. The orangey, marble-sized hips remain on the bush throughout winter. They are reportedly rich in vitamin C, which is not easy to come by locally in midwinter.

I prepared the hips in the recommended manner–gather a handful, pour hot water over them, and let steep for 10 minutes. This results in a pinkish intiction that was no great pleasure to drink. It may be the variety of rose (some may taste better than others), or the quality of the hips–by the time of harvest, mine had been through several freezes and thaws, with temperatures from freezing up through the seventies and back to freezing again. Like the brussel sprouts still frozen in my backyard, which are cooking up mushy these days, the rose hips may have seen better days. I will definitely try this earlier next season, and will try new varieties, but would have to be looking scurvy in the eye to revisit the beverage I’ve just finished.

Starting Seeds

In the dank, moldy shower stall in the corner of our basement, I’ve set up a two-level greenhouse to get a head start on the growing season. It’s a pretty crude affair–two scrap lumber frames, covered in lathe slats, with some discount flourescent lighting rigs. I lined the glass door with aluminum foil to reflect the light back into the shower stall, and have all of my lights plugged into a single powerstrip, which allows for easy on-off every morning and evening. To the casual observer, it looks an awful lot like I’m growing marijuana on a commercial scale. My digital camera is not functioning at the moment, but I’d like to provide some pictures in the future.

It’s well ahead of our last frost-free date (sometime in May), but I started a few things this week. In addition to some early flowers, I’ve got spinach and lettuce, which will go into the cold-frame for an early salad crop, and asparagus. Last year, the asparagus I grew from seed was completely eaten by slugs within two days of setting it out. I then purchased two dozen year-old roots, which will be entering their second year this spring (harvest is supposed to start at the three-year mark). By starting from seed again this year, I put myself a year into the hole and risk another slug attack, but I’ll save a considerable sum of money over buying roots. I also feed into an illogical drive for legitimacy, according to which growing from seed is more respectable than any shortcut. If my seed-starting fails again this year, I’ll be humbly purchasing and planting asparagus crowns when the soil can be worked.