I know the links that are supposed to appear in the previous post Eating in Our Food Shed are not working; I’m working on re-compiling the Chicago-specific ones to repost. In the meantime, check out these resources to find local food in your area:
Local Harvest www.localharvest.com
Eat Wild www.eatwild.com
Honey Locator www.honeylocator.com
Enjoy!
I know a lot of people who are always striving for the bigger house, bigger car, bigger yard. I just don’t understand that. I have always lived in little houses (didn’t Laura Ingalls Wilder say that once too?), and I have always liked them. They are cozy and warm. I have always felt lost in immediate spaces that are too cavernous (although I do appreciate wide-open natural spaces—there nothing quite like being underneath big sky). It just seems wasteful. My feelings definitely transfer to my views of gardening. My garden this year will grow just enough produce for a few really good salads—honestly just a few handfuls of vegetables. A lot of people I know wouldn’t be satisfied with that—they would be looking for big real estate to fill only partway with decorative plants. But me, I’m thinking—“Okay, I’ve got three windows. How can I maximize those three windows to produce the vegetables and fruits we need?” This year was the experimental year—I’ve never tried indoor vegetable gardening before. I purposefully chose not use artificial lighting or soil amendments to grow my plants. I’m using the natural light from eastern windows, and a plain potting mix, with gravel in the bottom of the containers for drainage. I give all of the plants a good soak twice a week, and that’s it. I want to see what nature will do, all by itself. One can only improve upon something after the process is understood. In terms of maximizing my space, I have room to add two small pots in the living room window, four small pots in the kitchen window, and another four small pots in the bedroom window. Most of these will grow kitchen herbs, and a second sowing of lettuce. I’ll probably also devote one or two to my new-found interest in desert succulents. If I have any expansionist tendencies, they reach only as far as the two pine bookshelves from Ikea on the other side of the room. I can’t wait to purchase (second hand) or build some new bookcases so I can repurpose the existing ones for the farm. They are the perfect size to for seed flats and grow lights, and they’re sturdy. I like the challenge of finding new spaces within what I own to grow things, and in incorporating plants into the way I decorate my home. And I really like to interact with my plants. First thing in the morning, groggy-eyed before my cup of tea and shower and not able to see more than a foot in front of my face because I don’t have my contacts in, I open the curtains to let the light in, check the soil to make sure it’s moist, and check out each plant. I get excited about every sprout and flower. I inhale the intoxicating aroma of tomato plants basking in the summer morning heat. I do all this in the hour (and not a full hour, mind you—I still have to dress and have breakfast) before I leave to go to my office job. But it makes me feel like more than a cubicle drone—it makes me feel like a farmer. And I believe I am farming, here in my apartment. I am grateful for the little patches of dirt I have assembled in my windows. I am grateful that I can actually smell tomato plants in the morning and chew crispy lettuce, freshly torn from the plant. As I survey my bookshelves and windows, and flip through my seed catalogs, I am in touch with what is important. I know the value of each square foot of space that I utilize, and every square foot that I don’t. I know the value of providing a small, yet substantial in other ways, part of my family’s diet from our own “land”. And I feel content with what I have, and the challenge and excitement of finding new ways to work with what I’ve got. I don’t need the bigger garden. I’ve already got it; I just have to find a good way to use it.
Do you know what you eat? I mean, really know what the food you consume contains, where it was grown or produced and how? For most individuals, the answer is no. But isn’t that a bit unsettling? The nourishment that we provide for ourselves and our families is so essential to our survival, and most us haven’t a clue where it comes from. I’ve come across a couple of resources in the past few years that have made me think about where my food comes from. The first was a book I read a few years ago called Coming Home to Eat by Gary Paul Nabhan. The author spent a year eating foods within a 250 mile radius of his desert home. It allowed him to learn about what was native to the area, how it has traditionally been cultivated, foraged and prepared, and about the history and lifestyles of the Native Americans perpetuating those methods. In his book, Nabhan showed what was possible in terms of utilizing a local food shed—it doesn’t have to be a diet of deprivation. The second resource is one I’ve come across more recently—the 100 Mile Diet. This is an experiment by a Canadian couple of eating foods produced, obviously, within 100 miles of their home. Inspired by both of these experiments, I decided to research which food resources were available near my home. I can already get a standard array of fruits and vegetables every summer grown on farms local to my area at farmer’s markets, as well as some independent natural groceries and CSA programs. In addition, here are some resources local to the
Chicago area for other foodstuffs:
| Producer | Products Available | Website |
And to locate food resources in your own community, check out the following:
| Resource | Website |
Since I’m a dedicated container gardener, I’m always looking for containers that are neat as well as functional. A few neat containers and possible plantings are outlined below:
Vintage Colanders (would be great with strawberry or cherry tomatoes)
Enamel Stockpots (plant a “soup” garden—dwarf celery, carrots, garlic, etc.)
Cake Pans (deep ones like bundt pans are best, and also have unusual shapes)
Domed Cake Plates (terrarium)
5 gallon Candy Jars (terrarium)
Hollowed-out Funkin Pumpkins (something spooky and vining—maybe a spider plant?)
Mini Rubber Tires (cut and turned inside out like the larger ones)
Compotes of any material—milk glass, silver, china (pretty with small flowers or mosses)
Punch Bowls (hot pink or red flowers are great; good as planters or terrariums)
Wall Sconces Designed for Candles (small flowers or succulents)
That's right, I didn't get around to planting my modest garden of herbs until today. I planted them in an adorable stone planter I scored at a yard sale for $1 about a month ago. It looks like a stone garden fence, with a gate in each side. It's divided into four sections, so I planted two of thyme (my all-time favorite herb), one of chives, and one of oregano. I'm looking forward to using the thyme fresh in everything, the chives on baked potatoes, and the oregano in tomato or pizza sauce. But oh, why did I have to plant so late? But on the plus side, maybe they will just be coming into harvest when my tomatoes are– tomatoes and fresh herbs are so good together. So maybe my accidental planning will actually work out to my benefit…
One of my homestead dreams is a pantry with shelves displaying jewel-toned rows of canning jars, showcasing the finest, tastiest batches of tomato sauces, salsas, green beans, corn, pumpkin butters and an inumberable variety of other preserves. I feel best, especially in the fall and winter months, when the pantry is stocked and everything is in it's place. So I was really excited when I found Stocking Up III when I was out thrifting today. This book really is the bible of home preserving, with information on not only canning, drying and freezing, but on root cellaring, juicing, producing dairy foods, and sprouting. It got me thinking– maybe I can put up some preserves, with a little planning of course, at the Apartment Farm this year. Now keep in mind that I have never attempted canning or drying. I have a few memories of my Mom and Grandma doing small batches of things like tomatoes, but my clearest memories are of being in my Great Grandma's farm kitchen (back in the waning heyday when you could still call it a farm) when she would put up an entire winter's worth of food for a family. I remember very clearly always being underfoot, and reading the instructions on the steps it takes to properly can, it's apparent that one needs a lot of room and organization in the kitchen to make everything move along smoothly. I am anal-retentive with organization, but space in the kitchen is something I am definitely short on. So it seems that small batch preserving will be the way to approach things this season, and that also lends itself to the huge learning curve I'll be contending with. If something goes wrong on a batch of 4 jars of tomato sauce rather than 20, it will be slightly less heartbreaking if I have to throw it out. I've been thinking very hard on what I'd like to try my hand at canning this year. I've settled on foods that we love and eat on a regular basis; there will be plenty of time to try new recipes and combinations once I've got the basics down. I think food drying will be a little easier since there are less steps involved. And I've also decided to try freezing some things that I haven't before. Convieniance is definitely a factor in our lives, and if I can devote a couple of weekends putting up wholesome food from the farmer's market, that will be one less jar or can of preservative-laden GMO food we have to buy from the supermarket. And that makes me feel good inside. My canning list, even it's it's "essential basics-only" form will still probably seem quite ambitious for a beginner. But I can't help it; that's just the way I do things. The following lists are what I'm going to try to put up this year; quantities of each item I'm still not sure on. I'll have to figure out how much I'm willing to spend on canning jars (this first year is so expensive; but there's clearly a savings in each succesive year one cans) and how much space I devote to food storage. So, this is what I'm going to try:
Canning
Drying
Freezing
The drying and freezing I think will be the easiest for me to learn and master, but the canning will take a lot of reading and meticulously following the instructions as I go through the process the first time. But I'm excited about giving it a try. I am definitely in a privileged position as I learn to do this– my family's survival does not depend on whether I get it right. I really feel a sense of awe as I think of all the women before me who learned by trial and error and from working with their own mothers, to preserve everything their family needed to eat for an entire year. It's impressive. I think I can honor the tradition by giving it a shot (and hopefully being successful at it!).
If there's anything I dislike more than heating up the kitchen for an hour to make dinner in a ninety degree heat, I don't what it is. That's what makes Thai Noodle Soup so great in the summer– it takes less than a half hour to make and it uses a minimum of pots and pans on the stovetop.
1.) Put the ramen to boil in lightly salted water for 3 minutes (when done cooking, drain and set aside).
2.) In a second pot, bring the chicken broth to a boil and add the chicken cubes. Simmer until chicken is cooked through, from 10-20 minutes.
3.) Add the snow peas, carrots, garlic and ginger and simmer for another 10 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
4.) Add the drained ramen noodles and heat through. Serve hot.
For a vegetarian version, you can omit the chicken and use vegetable broth instead of chicken broth. You could also use shelled edamame instead of the snow peas if you like. It's a great dish to serve alone, but we also like it as a starter to a meal of stirfry and fried wontons, and if I'm really ambitious, home made egg rolls.
Well, some of my tomatoes are flowering. The ones in the bedroom window actually, and I think it's because they get a couple more hours of full sun than the ones in the living room– we have a hideous concrete high rises that puts our living room in shadow for half the day. The flower buds are tiny, and there aren't that many yet, so I hope it continues to progress. I am starting to crave home grown cherry tomatoes, and I will CRY CRY CRY if I can't get these plants to produce any. Stay tuned for word of the arrival of the fruit!
I forget who said it, but someone did– “Great cooks aren’t born, they’re made.” And I don’t know about you, but I don’t have the big bucks to shell out on fancy cooking school classes (but I wouldn’t be oppossed to recieving a gift certificate for one or something– hint, hint). But until those gift certificates start rolling in, I’ll have to tide myself over with good old-fashioned book learnin’. Here’s some of what’s on my shelf:
LaRousse Gastronomique
The Milk Free Kitchen
Betty Crocker’s Picture Cookbook (1st edition)
The Little House on the Prairie Cookbook
Cuisine of the American Southwest
The Herbal Pantry
Putting Food By
This is a great, simple pasta salad to take on picnics or to summer potlucks.
1.) Cook the pasta until it is al dente. Toss with the olive oil and let it come to room temperature.
2.) Gently toss the rotini with the lettuce, tomatoes, ham, and if using, the olives and mozzarella, until everything is well mixed.
3.) If you are serving it right away, pour in the dressing and toss to coat everything. If you are transporting the salad to a picnic or potluck, carry the dressing in a seperate container and add it when ready to serve (otherwise the salad will become soggy).
It's simple, quick and delicious– we can (and do) eat this probably twice a week in the summer. If you'd like, use Italian dressing instead of the balsamic, or add other fresh veggies as they are available from the garden or farmer's market. Enjoy!
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