Apples

My first husband loved old apple orchards and would take me on the back of his Bridgestone motorcycle and we'd wander through farmland on old dirt roads and find the gnarled old trees laden with apples, apples dangling over the road or already fallen in the ditch. Frequently we'd come home with bags of apples and cook them up into sauce. Delicious, tart and flavored with cinnamon. Or I'd make apple butter, cooking the apples down for a long time then putting them through a fruit sieve. Yesterday I gathered some Gravenstein in my friend's backyard. They cooked into a lovely sauce that didn't need any sugar.

When I was a kid, canned fruits and pickles were thought of as an awesome thing. They had a special place on our shelves—being of real value and respect. When food was put by, it wasn't some little kitchen project, it was the real deal, this was the food for the winter. Canned fruits and pressure canned meats, dried meats and fruits, pickled and salted items. See Putting Food By for more recipes.

If you have an abundance of apples, you could try making apple butter. The easy way is to peel and core apples and chunk them up in a baking dish. Add the cinnamon and sugar, not too sweet, and bake (350)until it cooks down thickly. You can stir several times during the cooking process. You'll be able to tell when it is a nice spreadable consistency.

Last night I attended an Equinox event. We celebrated with a great meal of chicken and vegetables and a dish of baked mushrooms and pecans and orange slices. It really is fall, colder, darker, and I have a little cold. Yes, almost on Q, the cold came with the cooler weather. Perhaps there is an apple remedy for colds, there is a honey and lemon one, I know that, and tea, of course, always lots of tea. And for the heart, seeing things in a new way. A new perspective is appropriate at this time. Well, that's what turning points are for.

At both Equinoxes and Solstices, we can set new intentions for what we want in our lives. I want to be happy running my own life. And of course I want my heart to heal. And I want my garden to flourish. Also a metaphor. Enjoy the abundance of fall and keep at that garden. It's good for you and for the earth. What are you intentions?

Peace,
Flower

Thanks For the Memories

It feels a little nostalgic to turn the garden under in the fall. I used to wait for the first frost and then pick all the squash and cover the carrots with leaves. That was in Spokane, a different climate than the PNW. Concord grapes were better after the first frost. Sweeter. Jack and would pick the two rows that formed the walkway to the house. The grapes overflowed the wheelbarrow many times. We gave some away and I would make grape juice with the rest. Someone told me how to fill the jar with grapes, add some sugar syrup and hot bath the jars. That was it. Grape juice. You could also use a juicer and hot bath the juice. There probably has to be some lemon in there for the proper citric acid level. That is important in canning. If you've never canned, the jars glistening on the counter, their tops popping as they seal, you don't know what a good feeling it brings to the heart. A feeling of security, I think. Especially when the fruit cellar is filled with jars. All that food there to feed the family throughout the winter. And the wood stacked high for the woodstove. Good and secure.

I had a friend once who said she was freaked out by having too much food in her house. I had cupboards full of food. Cans of tomato sauce and soup and olives. When I cooked a meal, I had the ingredients, usually. So part came from the garden and part from the cupboard. When I went back to the land in the 70s, I hoped I could have everything come from my mini-farm. It didn't, but I did well with all the canning, etc. One thing about this type of lifestyle, is it takes time. And we don't have as much time now to do homey things these days. Lots of folks aren't at home in the same way. This makes me sad. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I love the idea of milling about the house and yard and making a home. I'm sad to not have that now. It's hard to make a condo. I'm going to move. I decided that in the night—I've decided it other nights too. This is how it goes being a divorcee. Deciding and then being unable to know how to get to where I want to go. Then I feel nauseous. Urgh!

To put the garden to bed, layer it with the compost you've been making all summer. You can grow a cover crop. Many people think this is a good way to amend soil. I doubt I will sow a cover crop, more than likely I'll find someone to haul manure for me. Next year the garden will produce. This year, well, at least I'm eating tomatoes and greens. And I get to chat with the other gardeners. All of this is good.

Flower

Putting Food By

There is this great book, Putting Food By that will help you with stocking your larder with a cornucopia of garden delights. From this book you will learn how to pickle and can and dry and salt, etc. It’s a must for anyone who wants a kitchen that feeds the family all winter long. When I lived in Yakima there was such an abundance of fruit from roadside stands, seconds that were cheap. Big old peaches with lumpy spines, misshapen tomatoes, gangly cukes, and cherries that are usually only processed for ice cream (nearly as large as plums and sweeter than any cherry you’ve ever eaten), all for ridiculously low prices. I canned rack after rack of sparkling jars, brilliant peaches soaked in brandy, beets pickled in brine and sugar, pears, prunes, & dill pickles. All of the jars were stowed away in the cupboard next to the stove, a lovely sight to see.
Feeding the family in the 70s tailed the back-to-the land movement, brown rice and hand ground wheat berries, home grown vegetables and chickens in the yard. Wheat bread rising in a bowl on the counter and trays of cherries and tomatoes drying on screens in the sun. It wasn’t easy work. There was the goat to milk first—just after Jack went off to the golf course to tend the greens and the baby was still asleep—irrigation systems whooshing across the valley while I nuzzled my face into my Nubian’s wide side, smelling her lovely goatiness. She gave a gallon of milk a day, milk both my daughter and husband drank. I wasn’t fond of it, and it hasn’t been until lately that I’ve been willing to explore the creamy goat cheeses on the market. Pretty good.
Putting Food By became my summer Bible. I combed through that book daily during the growing season. It is still part of my collection—stained and spine-broken—although it has been a long time since I’ve canned. I may never can again, as it does take strength to lift boxes of fruit and racks of hot canning jars. And it takes time, all the boiling of jars, paring fruit, boiling syrup and brine. It’s worth it for many folks. Me, I’ll just buy fresh fruit year around at the co-op.
Ciao!