Nine reasons to get psyched

I’m still new enough to farming that almost every part of it is exciting. But today was an exceptionally awesome day at the farm.

1. Baby carrots!

2. Baby beans!

3. Baby melons!

4. Baby heirloom tomatoes!

5. Baby butternut squash!

6. Baby broccoli!

7. Baby cucumber!

8. Ready-to-make-a-baby popcorn!

9. And finally, the height of my day, a sweet little frog chilling in a squash blossom.

Can we get a close-up?

Brown Sugar Ice Cream

Successful ice cream making requires two things. Most importantly, you need a basic formula that respects the science of tiny delicious ice crystals. Secondly, you need some ballsy ideas about what flavors will work — like Kate’s wildly successful bacon ice cream.

Not that brown sugar is particularly ballsy. But it *is* particularly good. We had it with my caramel-topped birthday cake (from Fremont Diner!) last night and it was like they were meant to be.

Ingredients

• 1½ cup whole milk
• 1½ cup heavy cream
• ¾ cup brown sugar
• ½ teaspoon vanilla extract

1. Combine all ingredients and stir until sugar is dissolved.
2. Pour into a 1½ quart ice cream maker and churn till it’s done.
3. Scoop into a container and freeze at least an hour before serving.

Chard Quiche & Arugula Pesto

Last night’s dinner was quite late, but fancy as heck.

I had planned on (finally) making blackberry pie, but after I finished making the crust I realized that the berries had been sitting in the fridge far too long. After a fruitless search online for chocolate pie recipes that use cocoa powder, no evaporated milk, and no eggs, I remembered how much I used to love making quiche. Thank goodness.

We also had a couple fillets of rock cod that our friend Dave caught. (I’d include that recipe, but really you just dredge the fillets and then fry them.) And the daunting pile of sylvetta that I harvested earlier went into the food processor for a nice pesto.

Chard Quiche

(Adapted from Alton Brown’s Refrigerator Pie recipe.)

Ingredients

• 1 9-inch pie crust
• 1 smallish bunch chard (about ½ lb), tough stems removed and sliced horizontally into ½-inch strips
• ¼ cup onion, chopped
• 2 eggs
• ½ cup heavy cream
• ½ cup milk
• 2 pinches kosher salt
• just a wee bit of fresh grated nutmeg

1. Preheat oven to 350°F.
2. Toss together chard and onion, and spread out evenly in the pie crust.
3. In a bowl, combine the eggs, dairy, salt, and nutmeg. Beat well.
4. Pour the egg mixture evenly into the pie crust.
5. Bake for 45 minutes, or until set.
6. Cool at least 10 minutes before eating.

Arugula Pesto

Ingredients

• ¼ pound arugula (about one very big handful)
• 3 cloves garlic
• pinch kosher salt
• 2-4 T olive oil

1. Place arugula, garlic, and salt in food processor. Process until arugula and garlic are puréed.
2. Drizzle in olive oil until the consistency looks right. Taste and adjust seasoning.
3. Serve over fish, pasta, or use as a spread for bread or sandwiches.

Lessons learned

Farming has got to be one of the least defined career paths out there. You can go to school for it, you can grow up with it, but you certainly don’t have to do either. Still, I can’t imagine many farmers out there have gone about it in such a backwards fashion as me. I’ve been running my own little farm (though really, I hesitate to even call it that — usually I tell people it’s between a big garden and a very small farm) for almost a month and a half now, but before that I’d never even had a garden before. No, really. I worked at a farm for a year and a half, most of that time as an assistant manager, helping plan and make decisions, but I’d never seen a plant through its whole life cycle before.

When I got started with my big garden/small farm a few weeks ago, there were several anxious days in which I was sure that none of my seeds would grow. I was amazed when almost everything came up without problems.

It’s been 44 days since I put the first seeds in the ground, and I’m sure I’ve learned at least one new thing each of those days. I’m listing some of them here hoping that someone will find them useful, or at least that I’ll get a real kick out of reading this after I’ve got a season under my belt.

1. Double-digging clay soil that’s never been cultivated is probably not the most efficient use of one’s time and energy.
2. Learning to broadcast seeds evenly is an incredibly useful skill.
3. Shop around for irrigation equipment; prices vary widely.
4. Keep small greens under row cover, or the flea beetles will eat them alive.
5. Write down everything, especially what’s planted where.
6. Skip the meager bags at the nursery and buy compost by the truckload.
7. Set a schedule for irrigating, and stick to it.
8. Plant radishes in the beginning for an early reward. Just not too many.
9. Weed a little bit every day, and for a few hours a couple times a week. Like the guys that paint the Golden Gate Bridge, just keep working through the weeds constantly.
10. Read about growing and talk to other growers. Talk about your problems and ask for help when you’re stumped.
11. Only interplant crops that have roughly the same water requirements. Astonishing that this one isn’t self-evident, huh?
12. If wind’s a problem, plant corn along the side of the garden where the wind comes from.
13. Direct seed instead of sowing in flats unless you’re really set up to take care of the babies.
14. Start planning how you’ll sell produce long before it’s ready.

Speaking of that last one, I’m collaborating with a few friends to open up a produce stand starting next month. Chris, Ernie, Julie, Megan, Ingrid, and I will have all our goodies up for sale outside of Ernie’s Tin Bar on Saturdays and Sundays. I’ll post more details here once we figure it all out.

The Waffle Making Process

1. Wake up, decide it is a day for glory and waffles.
2. Wonder why you don’t make waffles more often.
3. Dig out the recipe, waffle iron, three bowls, whisk, and spatula.
4. Perform alchemy.
5. Pour batter into waffle iron. Anxiously wait 5, 10, or 15 minutes for the steam to stop.
6. Extract undercooked/burnt/ripped-in-half waffle.
7. Repeat steps 5 and 6 for the next hour or so.
8. Attempt to enjoy waffles.
9. Vow to never make waffles again.

Barley & mushroom pilaf

I thought I hated barley until I actually tried it. Chris and I have been hooked on it for a couple weeks. Delicious! And, dare I say, nutritious.

The trick to making barley tasty and not mushy is rocking the pilaf. Instead of a sticky, health-foody mess o glop, you get lovely little individual grains that pop oh so slightly when you chew them. Delicious!

Ingredients

• 2 T butter (or 1 if you’re wimpy/dieting/short on butter)
• 5 cloves garlic, minced
• 12 crimini mushrooms, sliced nice and thin
• hefty pinch of salt
• about 12 fresh sage leaves, cut into ribbons
• 1 C pearl barley
• 2 C water

1. Melt butter in a medium saucepan. Add garlic and cook until soft, then add mushrooms, salt, and sage, and cook until mushrooms are all nice and cooked.
2. Add the barley and stir to get each grain coated with butter. Keep stirring and cooking until you smell toasty goodness.
3. Add water, cover, and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and cook for 30 minutes.
4. Check the barley — it might still need a few more minutes. If there’s still liquid in the pan, give it a little more time. If it’s ready, fluff with a fork and serve. Sprinkle with nooch if you like.

Corn-sage biscuits

Isn’t it great when a baking experiment turns out well? These biscuits aren’t as flaky as your standard all-flour biscuits, but the flavor is unbeatable. Slather ‘em with butter while they’re still hot, and top with poached eggs, herby beans, or a nice thick gravy.

Ingredients

• 1 C cornmeal (I use medium-ground, but anything finer that polenta/grits should be fine)
• 1 C all-purpose flour
• 1 T baking powder
• 1 t kosher salt
• about 20 fresh sage leaves, cut into fine ribbons
• 4 T butter
• ¾ C milk

1. Mix the cornmeal, flour, baking powder, salt, and sage together in a bowl.
2. Cut the butter into the dry mixture. Rub together with your fingers until there aren’t any big chunks left.
3. Pour in the milk, and stir with a fork until the dough comes together.
4. Knead the dough for a minute or two.
5. Divide the dough into eight equal pieces. (Alternately, you can roll the dough out and use a biscuit cutter to cut out perfect little biscuits. I think this’ll make for a more biscuit-like texture — maybe? Of course, if you are like me and own neither a rolling pin nor a biscuit cutter, you’re best off just dividing the dough.)
6. Arrange dough pieces in a 9-9½ inch glass pie dish. No need to grease it beforehand.
7. Ultimate gluttony option: dab a wee sliver of butter onto the top of each biscuit.
8. Bake at 450°F for 15-20 minutes, or until they brown just a bit.

Farm Diary: Day #2

(A quick update: I left my job at that other farm last week, and after a few days of downtime, have started farming on a little almost-quarter-acre field on my friend Ernie’s property.)

Today I:

• finished double-digging my first 5′ x 20′ bed. Heck yeah John Jeavons! (233 minutes)
• set up my garden hose for watering the raised beds, and rolled out the header for watering the rows (12 minutes)
• planted chioggia beets. So many beets. (62 minutes! Gotta get faster!)
• enjoyed a horchata milkshake and got to see Riley’s new farm spot (’bout an hour)
• showed Riley my little patch o dirt, did an irrigation store run, decided on general bed/row layout, and took a break to walk the goats with Ernie (173 minutes)

(Don't worry, we drove nice and slow.)

I also sunburned my lower back, forearms, and face. I have cuts and blisters on my hands, and my palms are so sore that it hurts to high-five. Of course, everything else is sore too. And I’m tired, so tired. Two days of farming has totally kicked my pansy, used-to-parking-itself-on-a-padded-chair-all-day ASS.

But today when I walked into my favorite diner, my favorite cashier said, “You look happy!” I am SO happy, I can’t even tell you. I’ve never had a job where I was so elated at the end of the second day. In my last job, I read dozens of intern applications that waxed poetic on the soulful joys of farming. Now I’m finally feeling it.

On tomorrow’s to-do list: another irrigation errand run (I fear that this is going to become a theme), rolling out drip lines, planting (popcorn, dry beans, green beans, zucchini, summer squash, cucumbers, muskmelons, lettuce, more beets, and spinach) double-digging half of the next bed. And most importantly, visiting Mark and Velma, who I’ve barely seen in the last year and a half — largely because I’d been working so hard for a pretty crappy company. Hooray for my new independence!

Cardamom Ice Cream

I had my mom and brother up this last weekend, and Saturday night I cooked them the nicest meal I could muster. (Well, my mom helped a lot — she even peeled a box of fava beans, which is no small feat.) We had fava bean soup full of olive oil and tasty herbs, creamy rice pilaf, and a big, fluffy dry jack soufflé just to show off a little. For dessert — after we recovered — we had this ice cream.

I hoped it would turn out well, but I had no idea it would be as great as it is! It’s mind-bogglingly easy too, so I imagine this will become regular freezer fodder around here.

• 2 C heavy cream (go for the good stuff — I use Straus. You can really tell the difference)
• 1 C whole milk
• ¾ C sugar
• 8 whole cardamom pods (buy small amounts in bulk and you won’t believe how cheap it is.)

1. Mix the cream, milk, and sugar until all sugar has dissolved.
2. Open up the cardamom and discard the pods. Grind up the seeds as best as you can with a mortar and pestle. It might take a while, but the smaller the pieces are, the more flavor you’ll get.
3. Mix that shit up! All together now.
4. Pour into a 1.5-quart ice cream maker and let it churn 20-30 minutes, or according to your manufacturer’s instructions.
5. Scoop into another container and freeze for at least an hour or two to harden.
6. Enjoy, and thank the gods that you were bright enough to buy an ice cream machine.

Creamy Pesto Couscous

Recently I’ve been in the mood for quick, easy, one-bowl dinners. It feels like cheating, especially when I skip the veggies and protein completely, like I did with this dish tonight. But sometimes this sort of comfort food really hits the spot.

I’ll eat vegetables tomorrow. Tonight, I want to drown in creamy pesto sauce.

• 1 T butter
• 2 shoots green garlic, sliced
• 1 T pesto
• 1 T flour
• 1 C milk
• salt and pepper
• ½ C uncooked couscous

1. Melt butter. Add garlic, cook until soft.
2. Stir in pesto, then flour. Cook for a few minutes. Add milk, salt and pepper to taste, and cook until thickened and boiling.
3. Stir in couscous, cover, and remove from heat.
4. In 7 minutes, remove lid and “fluff” with fork. Rejoice in creamy goodness.