I’m willing to bet the last of my frozen summer berry stash that anyone who lives in a cold-climate state is seriously suffering from cabin fever by now, especially after this unusually harsh winter. While I’m starting to tire of wearing what feels like 20 pounds of clothing every time I step outside, the worst thing is that we’re reaching the end of our preserved summer food stash. We finished the last jar of my canned tomato sauce, and the berries that I stockpiled from farmers' markets over the summer and stored in the freezer are dwindling.
But there is a cure, as winter farmers' and growers' markets have been increasing in my area, thanks to advancements in hydroponics and indoor growing methods, as well as hoop houses and greenhouses. There are several winter markets in the Milwaukee area, with growers selling sprouts, winter spinach, mushrooms, pasture-raised meats, apples, winter squash, alliums, herbs, and root vegetables at these winter markets. As one could expect, the quantities and variety of produce are more limited, but the produce is of fine quality, local, and reasonably priced. The growers are often willing to share their techniques and offer ideas to increase indoor food production.
Also present are local bakeries, artisan cheese makers, and vendors selling small-batch salsas, jams, olive oils, and sauces. Some markets have booths with direct sales vendors peddling cosmetics or kitchen goods, but for the most part, these winter farmer markets are a foodie’s cure for the winter blahs, providing fresh and locally produced food.
Has anyone else noticed an increase of winter markets in your area? What produce or artisan food products are available?
As a child, I scarfed down bowlfuls of the commercial breakfast cereals endorsed by all of those lively animated monsters, ship captains and talking birds. I savored the sickeningly sweet, faux fruit flavors and the artificial crunch that only partially hydrogenated oil could produce. In the 1970s, education and awareness of what went into our food products was still a long way off.
As an adult, I leaned toward, well, adult cereals; the boring kinds that make kids groan, with flakes or wheat biscuits or O-shapes not coated with anything remotely sugary, promoted by just a picture of wheat stalks, and not some silly rabbit.
Time went by and I learned more about food ingredients and sources, as well as the agricultural methods used on commercial crops. Even a few of those supposedly healthy adult cereals were made from crops that had been sprayed with who-knows-what, or the corn or rice had been genetically modified.
So for years, I’ve made my own granola, which is a fine complement to the morning coffee and paper (or even if I still want to catch a Saturday morning cartoon). My sister, Nancy, provided me with an excellent base recipe that can be altered to produce a variety of flavors:
3 cups large flake oats
1 1/2 cups barley or rye flakes
3/4 cup oat bran
1 cup shredded or flake coconut
1 cup chopped nuts
1/2 cup raw pepitas (shelled pumpkin seeds)
1/2 cup flax seed
1/2 cup canola oil
1/4 cup water
2/3 cup honey or maple syrup
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 1/2 cups dried berries
Sugar or brown sugar to taste
Preheat oven to 250 degrees F. In a large bowl, combine all dried ingredients except berries. In a smaller bowl, whisk oil, water, honey, vanilla and cinnamon. Combine wet and dry ingredients. Spread mixture onto making sheets. Bake for 30 minutes, stirring every 10 minutes. Can bake longer if more crunch is desired.
I’ve made a cherry-almond version using dried cherries for the berries, slivered almonds for the nuts, and almond extract instead of vanilla. I’ve also substituted wheat germ for the oat bran, sunflower seeds for the pumpkin seeds, and I’ve made a hearty fall variety with maple syrup, brown sugar, raisins and dried apple bits.
This recipe makes the equivalent of three 10-ounce boxes of granola cereal. I buy the oats, seeds and most berries in bulk from my local natural foods co-op. I’ve found that making my own granola is a very economical way to have good quality cereal.
But I do kind of miss the cartoon monsters.
Here in Wisconsin, we’re in the midst of yet another Arctic blast. Many schools and businesses are closed, energetic housebound kids are driving parents bonkers, games of fetch with our canines are played indoors (oops, there goes the lamp!), and it’s even too cold to partake in our fun winter activities like ice skating or sledding.
Yet being shut in for a couple of days gives me time to examine the seed catalogs that have arrived; a sign that warmer days are ahead. During my first read through the catalogs, I have my trustee Sharpie to mark everything of interest. I begin slowly, placing an “X” next to items I wish to order.
It wasn’t long before I had three varieties of bok choy, Calabrese and purple sprouting broccoli, and four types of carrots marked with a large X. Resembling a student attempting to finish a test before the bell rang, I hunched over the catalog, fingers firmly grasped around the Sharpie, as I rapidly marked more and more veggie varieties that looked good, or that I’ve seen in tasty recipes. I wanted to try anything and everything.
By the time I got to the Greens category – not even halfway through the alphabet – I was over $100 in, and I would need two more backyards. Yet I kept going: oasis chrysanthemum greens, salad rocket arugula, Endive di Rufec (don't know what that is, but it's sounds tasty and exotic), Italiko Rosso Chicory, Southern Giant Mustard Greens ...
As the wind howled outside and rattled the panes of glass in the windows of my 1925 home, I envisioned warm summer days surrounded by the greenery from my bountiful garden. Not price, nor lack of space, nor climate conditions could stop me and my Sharpie as I madly kept going: Genovese basil, lemon basil, Thai basil, cilantro, bouquet dill, lemongrass, sage, thyme, baby lettuce blend, organic lettuce blend, buttercrunch lettuce, romaine lettuce blend.
Peas! Peppers! I marked golden sweet peas, Oregon sugar pod II pea, Jupiter bell pepper, early jalapeno pepper ...
By the time I got through the Tomatoes section, every seed variety had a faded “X” next to it as my Sharpie ran dry. Had I ordered every X’ed item, the bill would have been a few hundred dollars and I would have needed a couple of greenhouses or hoop houses to get the seedlings started. Oh, and about three more acres of land.
Another blast of wind blew against my window and rattled the pane with all its might, shaking me from my Supergarden fantasy. I sadly realized that I would have to grab a new Sharpie and start Round Two; a reality round based on my budget, space, and the growing climate of the Midwest.
But that can wait until the next day I’m housebound.
While planning yummy eats for Christmas and New Year's get-togethers, I use a number of different cookbooks and online sources for researching new and unique recipes. However, one book that has been right under my nose, yet has eluded me, is my mother’s copy of The Settlement Cook Book, fifth printing, copyright 1965. She received the harvest gold, clothbound edition as a wedding shower gift in 1969.
Mom lent to me her worn, stained edition of the book with its cover held on by a vertical strip of clear carton tape. Little figures in long gowns and chef’s hats dance across the bottom of the cover. At the proclamation of “The way to a man’s heart” on the cover page, I braced myself for some antiquated recipes and instructions.
As I read the preface and researched the history of The Settlement Cook Book, I was pleased to learn it has progressive origins that began right in my hometown of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. A neighborhood house called The Settlement provided a resource center for European immigrants seeking assistance with learning English and citizenship, cooking, and sewing. A dedicated Settlement volunteer and social reformer, Elizabeth “Lizzie” Black Kander, ran the cooking classes and came up with the idea of printing the lessons and recipes, rather than having the students laboriously copy the recipes and instructions repeatedly. The book could also be sold to raise funds for continued Settlement operations.
The men of the Settlement board scoffed at the idea of spending money - $18 - on such a project, so Kander and her fellow volunteers began raising the money to print the book on their own. In April 1901, the first copies of The Way to a Man’s Heart...The Settlement Cook Book rolled off the presses.
OK, so that’s where the “way to a man’s heart” came from.
My mother’s 1965 edition contains diverse recipes from many cultures, as well as vegetarian (yes!) recipes and a section dedicated to serving persons with special dietary needs or restrictions.
The cake baskets sounded fun: make sponge or cupcakes in muffin tins and when cooled, cut off the tops, make a well inside each one, and fill with berries or ice cream.
Petits Fours ... hmm. I like to cook and bake, but I confess that I do not have the time or patience for those. Maybe in the future.
While I skipped the haggis, hominy grits, steamed raisin puff, and fig pudding, those dishes still intrigued me in the sense that they shed much light on our history of food and using what ingredients were available at the time and in the regions from where the recipes originated.
A pea and nut-based vegetarian loaf recipe caught my attention, and it made me reconsider paying several dollars for the tiny meatless holiday loaves I buy at my local health food co-op. Sections dedicated to low fat, low cholesterol, and “invalid cookery” for those on liquid or soft diets showed how, even in 1965, people were attempting to become more educated and inclusive in the diverse universe of food.
I spent nearly two hours going through the book cover to cover, as I found it a great resource to learn of past food traditions, and it was full of advice useful today, especially for those who want to avoid processed food. The cheddar cheese sticks, Russian tea, and sparkling wine punch I made with recipes from The Settlement Cook Book were hits this holiday season, and I’ll likely borrow the book from my mother more often.
Happy Holidays, and cheers to a healthy and bountiful 2014!
No, not those kind. I’m talking about your tasty - and legal, non-hallucinogenic - standard White Button mushroom variety that can be savored in soups, salads, pizzas, and casseroles. I can also say magical, because the growing process is quite engaging.
A few years ago, I had the pleasure of interviewing Eric Rose, owner of River Valley Ranch & Kitchens, in Burlington, Wis. The farm specializes in mushrooms, not only White Button but also varieties such as Portabella, Crimini, Oyster, and Shiitake.
Until then, I was unsure of how mushrooms were grown. I was intrigued to see that they are grown year-round in cool, dim growing houses that are ventilated and temperature-controlled. As we walked in, Portabella and Crimini mushroom’s poked their domed tops out from a combination of 80-percent compost and a mixture of peat moss and limestone.
And the best part was when he told me that River Valley Ranch sells home growing kits. I could grow mushrooms right in my basement!
I picked up a White Button mushroom kit. There were two bags, one with compost and mycelium (a thread-like vegetative part of a fungus), and one with casing soil. I prepared the compost and soil per enclosed instructions. Everything was done right in the box; easy-peasy and very little mess.
After about five days, I noticed a threadlike growth of mycelium on the surface, just like the instructions said. Only slight watering was required; just enough to keep the compost moist.
White button mushrooms pop their dome heads from compost in my mushroom kit.
But the real rush happened several days later when pinhead-sized tops developed and rapidly puffed into the mushrooms that I later enjoyed in so many of my vegetarian dishes. Growth happened rapidly once the mushrooms surfaced (they seemed to grow by the minute), and the kit yielded plenty of those White Button beauties for a couple of months.
These harvested white button mushrooms will soon find their way into my homemade cream of mushroom soup.
Like most gardening and farming, seeing the many stages of food grown from soil to table really does feel like magic. I’ve found the mushroom kits a convenient and economical way to produce food indoors during a harsh winter climate like we have in Wisconsin. With all of the agricultural advancements in recent years to extend the growing season and sustainably grow food indoors, does anyone grow other produce indoors? What methods are used? Window greenhouses? Aquaponics?
For years, I’ve held a firm belief that pumpkins are one of the most fun and useful squash varieties in existence. These guys provide tasty pie, they can be carved into wicked Halloween decorations, and their innards are packed with seeds that can be roasted into a healthy snack. While I don’t have enough space on my property to grow a proper pumpkin patch, I am fortunate to live within a short drive of Swan’s Pumpkin Farm in Franksville, Wis.
Doug and I set out on a brisk and overcast October afternoon to find our ideal pumpkins. As we parked in Swan’s vast parking lot and headed toward the entrance, the clouds seem to have lifted as we sighted the expansive pumpkin patch in the distance. The Swan family and their employees do up the pre-halloween festivities right. Once a poultry farm, the Swans changed course a couple of decades ago and specialize in pumpkins, and with that came all sorts of fall events for kids and kids-at-heart.
One of the pumpkin patches at Swan's Pumpkin Farm, where we get out pumpkins every year.
While I’m certainly a kid at heart, we wanted our pumpkins. We dashed past the stage that featured a lively bluegrass band and past the line for the hayrides. We paused briefly at the concession stand that offered cider doughnuts and popcorn, but the orange in the distant pumpkin patch called us. We zigzagged around children who appeared to be in awe, and past parents who appeared weary.
Yet, I did just have to stop to pet and feed the goats at the petting zoo.
As we pushed a rented wheelbarrow through the pumpkin patch, my favorite lines from “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!” came to mind. Choosing a couple of tiny pie pumpkins was easy, but for carving, our ideal pumpkins had to be just right. Each one had to have a large, smooth carving face. It had to sit just right to be properly displayed during Halloween, so we positioned each pumpkin for consideration. If it rolled or sat like it had imbibed in too much hard apple cider, it had to be passed by.
Soon Doug and I were one our way home with two pie pumpkins and three fine carving pumpkins - all for under $20.
We chose an assortment of both free-hand art and stencils for the faces on the carving pumpkins. Cleaning out the pumpkins and scooping out the pulp and seeds was the most tedious, but soon we had a colander full of seeds for roasting. I rinsed them and let them sit overnight to bake the following day.
I let the pumpkin seeds dry overnight and roast them the next day.
After we drew the faces on the pumpkins and carved out the designs, they looked nice and spooky when illuminated. Our hound dog, Lenny, gave his sniff of approval, especially at “his” jack-o-lantern that featured canine-themed art of a howling wolf.
Our jack-o-lanterns are Lenny the hound-approved.
Our jack-o-lanterns would certainly impress the little ghouls and goblins who would come by for Trick-or-Treat, but my mind was on those yummy seeds yet to come. The seeds in the colander were still a little damp, which is how I liked to prepare them. My preferred method is to spread the seeds out on a cookie sheet, toss a couple pats of butter on the seeds (which, of course, melts into the seeds), and sprinkle them with sea salt. I put the tray of seeds into the oven pre-heated to 275 degrees. Every 15 minutes or so, I stirred the seeds and added a little more butter and salt, if needed. I roasted the seeds for about an hour.
The roasted seeds pleasantly scented the house and made a satisfying crunchy snack as we watched Game 4 of the World Series (I’ll keep the post neutral and not divulge which team I’m rooting for).
Roasted and ready for snacking!
Pumpkin pies coming next...
In the past, I’ve seasoned my roasted pumpkin seeds with a seasoned salt blend from a local spice company, or turned the seeds into a sweet snack with a cinnamon and sugar blend, which gave them a scent and taste similar to the roasted almonds sold in paper cones at festivals. I’ve even gotten brave and spiced the seeds with a chipotle blend. Does anyone have other seasonings they prefer to use on roasted pumpkin seeds?
My grandma was an urban homesteader well before the term became popular, or even before the term existed. Besides reusing and recycling almost everything, as well as gardening and baking, I remember how on any given summer day Fels-Naptha-cleansed laundry flapped from the clotheslines as we kids darted around the yard, dodging flailing slips, housecoats, and Turkish towels. Grandma never explained to us why the towels were called “Turkish.” They were just Turkish towels, so there. (I later learned that they’re basically just any towels made from cotton terry cloth, and I was a bit disappointed by the blasé definition.)
Grandma had these neat wooden clothesline poles - or props, as she called them - that propped the line up high to keep sheets off the ground and allow for maximum air flow. She even painted the props her signature “aqua” shade, a color she made up by mixing two paint hues. Don’t ever call it blue or green in front of Grandma.
Our family cousin Dennis rides his bike past one of Grandma's clothesline prop poles during the 1950s.
“Aqua,” she had always corrected. Everything in the yard and home was accented with “aqua,” from the clothesline props to the decorative bricks in the yard to the trim on the house. Her neighbors had tried to imitate the color, with little success.
Unfortunately, Grandma’s cool aqua clothesline props were lost over time. I’ve been hanging laundry outdoors for years, but had trouble finding clothesline props like Grandma had. Metal or aluminum props were available at hardwood stores and online, but they just weren’t the same. They also averaged around $25.
My mom found a piece of scrap trim that measured 1” thick by 2” wide, which was just about the size of Grandma’s clothesline props. The scrap wood stretched seven feet long, which was the perfect height to raise wet laundry toward the sun and wind so Mother Nature could do her thing.
We measured and marked a “V” shape at one end and cut out the shape with a jigsaw. That was the end to prop up the clothesline. At the other end, we angled the corners to shape a point so the pole would stab into the ground and stay put. We sanded the edges, and presto! We had recreated Grandma’s clothesline props.
The Top of My DIY Clothesline Prop
The Bottom of the DIY Clothesline Prop
I found more 1” thick by 2” wide strips of wood and cut those in the same manner. After a good sanding, the homemade props have lasted several years.
Due to both environmental consciousness and a frugal nature, I’ve decided to go all out with recreating Grandma’s laundry day. I usually have a bar of Fels-Naptha laundry soap on hand for stains, so I decided to ditch my usual liquid detergent and go with Fels-Naptha. The bar grates just as easily as any hard cheese, and a handful of the soap shavings tossed into a full load on the warm cycle got everything really clean. Estimated cost per load: 42 cents. Also, no plastic jug; just a biodegradable paper wrapper.
It's not cheese, but grated Fels-Naptha laundry bar soap.
Best of all, the scent reminded me of Grandma and her backyard on summer days.
I’ve also tried to recreate Grandma’s “aqua” paint color to apply to the homemade clothesline poles, but just like Grandma’s neighbors, I couldn’t get it right.