Lawn conversion stage two- in place worm farming

 When we decided to convert the lawn to a fruit garden, I went in bracing myself for the hard job of removing the grass.

As I learned few weeks ago, this went faster than I could have imagined, and the sod embankments that will stabilize the hill were similarly trouble free.


Then we ran into a completely unexpected challenge.

Not enough worm food.


Seattle is a very worm-centric community. Many households have worm bins, which they use to dispose of kitchen scraps while harvesting a little high quality compost for their gardens.

My first visit to David's house, he showed me his worm farm and told me how to take care of it. I was new to the city and thought he was a lovable eccentric, but I've since met several other people who introduced me to their worms.

Small scale worm composting consists of a box full of bedding like shredded paper, moistened but not drippy. The worms are placed in the bedding and fed a mixture of household veggie scraps and garden soil. Worms can eat something like their own weight in waste food every week.

 The food makes its way through the worm and out the other end as black, shiny castings - worm poop, an excellent soil amendment.

My vision for the front yard is to create a bedding layer of worm castings an inch or two deep, over the burlap that covers the bare soil. I would then cover this with mulch and install the plants.

Below the mulch layer, the worms would finish decomposing their food and dig into the burlap till it was all eaten.

But with nearly 3000 square feet of garden bed to fill, I was striking out at finding that quantity of shredded paper for a starting medium. Not to get all math heavy, but to fill an area 3000 square feet with bedding 1" deep would require about 9 cubic yards of mixed material. That's a lot. It will be big, messy and heavy.

Perhaps this is a good thing I haven't found a source. It will slow me down so I can experiment with a smaller amount and make sure this "worm farming on the ground instead of in a bin" idea is a good one.

Yeah, let's say I planned it this way all along. I'll start with a small test area, 3' x 6' x 6" deep. That way, if the process produces a lot of odor or attracts pests I'll know before I've committed a huge part of my lawn!

Today I started my test.

I set out a bag of shredded paper which I obtained from freecycle.

On top of that, I dumped about 30# of beet and carrot pulp from a juicing company. They will have enough of this for my whole project, if I pick up a batch a week.

The beets and carrots were pretty colored, but I could already tell they would break down into a slimy, smelly, clumpy mess that worms couldn't even push their way through, unless I broke it up with some other organic material.

Lucky me. Seattle is a huge coffee drinking town, and many coffee shops are more than happy to give away their spent grounds.

It saves them the cost of composting, and helps them get green credentials.

I know from previous worm bins that coffee grounds help break up other material and keep the bedding open so the worms can move around better.

It also has a fresh, pleasant odor that will cover and absorb less pleasant smells from other material.

Worms need grit. Like chickens (who knew) they have gizzards.

They use the grit to grind up other food.

I dumped a bucket of garden soil on top of my bedding to provide this important supplement.

Oh. Last but not least, the worms.

I dug up a five gallon bucket of mixed worms and their compost from my worm bin and spread them out on top.

Then I stirred it all together (this is not a project for the squeamish) and watered it till it felt like a damp sponge.

By this point, robins, crows and chickens were eyeing the whole affair with greed and hunger. I covered the bed with burlap to hide it from their acquisitive eyes.

It shouldn't need anything for the next week or so. The forecast is for occasional rain and weather in the high 60's. Perfect.

I'll check back in a week and we'll know how the whole project is going.

Hopefully the worms will be thriving. And hopefully by then I'll have a lot more bedding to start this thing really rolling.

The great dissapearing lawn

It's always scary to move from the idea stage to the action stage.

This week, we took the first step in turning our sloping, grassy front lawn into a garden of fruits and nectar. But before we get to the beautiful vision in our heads, we have to put in the work to get there.

The hill in front of the house looks gracious and inviting, but in reality it has been anything but. The slope is too steep for comfortable mowing - there is always the lingering fear of falling down the side.

It's also too steep to play most games on. Rolling downhill or sledding seem fun except you would end up in a thicket of English Laurel, with a poorly lighted street on the other side. Less fun, that. Especially because we live across the street from a park with a nice flat grassy area plus a good sledding hill. We didn't need a less useful version of either.

So we are going to convert it into a garden.




We have wanted to do this for years, but dreaded the labor. Luckily, the neighboring community of White Center is home to one of the best equipment rental stores around. For $75, we rented a sod cutter for the day.

sod cutter and some rolled sod

This baby sliced through the grass much more easily than we imagined. It was harder than mowing the lawn, but much easier than rototilling. It didn't take over in quite the same way.



We did learn that if you cut sod, you should remove the cut strips immediately, either by lifting them or rolling them up. Otherwise you won't be able to see where you cut, and will either miss spots or slice up your nice strips into little tatters.


Four hours of cutting yielded 3500 square feet of bare soil. Or rather, soil with cut sod on it. We lifted the sod strips and piled them into long walls which followed the line of the hill.

This was hard work, and really dirty. But it was also fun - like making a fort. Using sod strips as building material was a new experience for us - but was once a common building method. The folks who did it to make homes, without the benefit of a sod cutter, were truly stout hearted.





It took David and me about 12 man hours to roll and stack the sod. It takes weight as well as strength to wrestle the sod rolls. Noah was not able to budge them, but he helped by working the broadfork to loosen the soil.

Here is the slope with two rows of sod walls, positioned about seven feet apart down the hill. The walls ended up about eight or nine inches tall. We expect they will settle with age and time but remain as boundaries to the edges of each garden bed.

In all, we made three long terraces. They should act as water catchments, slowing the percolation of rain into the soil and storing winter moisture for our dry summers. All Meggie knows is she doesn't usually get to this part of the yard so she's excited.



Next we covered the hill with burlap bags.


Seattle is a coffee town. Many of the warehouses for the bigger companies will give you huge numbers of their bags. You just have to ask around and see who has them.


The hill used two full bales of bags - about 1600 of them. Each bag is about 4' x 2', or eight square feet, so we had 12800 feet of surface area.

That means we covered the whole area between two and three bags deep. We hope the bags will block out light and prevent any residual grass from growing back out. More crucially, they should hold the soil in place between now and our next steps - adding mulch and planting the garden.








                                    









Laying out the bags was unbelievably fast. David arrived with the bags at 11:30. Then we built a campfire and roasted hot dogs and veggie dogs. Then we started laying out the bags.


Two or three hours later, the rain started and Noah went inside. By four, David and I were done. The rain weighted the burlap so it conformed with the  contours of the hill.

From our new staircase, you now see a rounded beige hill off to your right.

It looks like some one's paper mache project. Or like a pair of khaki pants cast off by a giant.

As the rain softens the fabric I am starting to see the higher ridges where the walls of grass and soil rise up.

Right now we are all tired. The school break is over so I go back to work and Noah goes to school.



The hill will wait. Soon our buddy Heath will call to ask where we want him to drop some wood chips.

We will be ready!

 To be continued...

shared on: backyardfarmingconnection, homestead-barn-hop-107,gastronomicalsovereignty.com, frugal-days-sustainable-ways-68, simple-lives-thursday-143

A big step for Several Gardens Farm

From the day we moved to Several Gardens Farm, one thing was obvious. In true farmhouse style, guests come to the back, kitchen door, not the front guest entrance. When we entertain, people gather in the kitchen, and stay put in the one room where they started. The more guests, the more crowded the kitchen, because no one ever wanders beyond.

The front entrance, the formal door, is only used by people who do not know us: kids selling candy, folks with religious tracts, meter readers, pizza delivery, etc.

And Halloween ghoulies, of course. Each year, intrepid children stagger up the grassy hillside to our dark, imposing house.





The back porch has a clear, simple pathway.

The path to our front door. Nice huh?

The front has a steep, grassy hill to clamber up, and dark, narrow, walkway.


We can make the door inviting once you get there but the property does nothing to get you there.

We have always wanted to modify this, but it's been a little unclear how.

Above all we needed stairs, but that was easier said than done.

Until the day we got the great deal on ten stone slabs from a  demolished building. The stones were big rectangles with rough faces. Perfect risers for stairs cut into the hillside.

The prospect of cutting into said hill, and setting the stones in it, kept holding us back. The stones weigh at least 120 pounds each. They were stacked at the top of the hill and would have to be lifted and settled into place. In addition, we feared doing the job badly and ending up with ugly, slippery, unwelcoming steps.


But we have a tractor, and that helps cut back on the physical labor. So on an early spring day, the sun was shining and we decided to jump in. Well, do some math and then jump in.

We measured the rise of the hill = 34". The run from start to end following the shortest path was 140". The steps were each 4" high, so we needed eight of them to get our height, with 2" left of height to figure out. If we used eight steps, each needed to be 17" deep.


Our stones were long enough, just barely. We then had the idea of slightly curving the path. This would lengthen it a bit, which was fine, as we had extra stones. The extras would be used as path, like stepping stones bedded on grade with no gain in elevation. The curve would let us meet the sidewalk straight on, as it follows a slightly different curve than the driveway below.

So we excavated a spot for the first step. We dug down below grade and filled in with sharp gravel. This lets the stone settle in very smoothly and lay really flat. The first an second stones went in well.

But by the third stone we noticed a problem. The bottom of the steps was the concrete rim of the driveway. The driveway is on a slope, so the rim itself is not level.

We had measured from the top - but there was a difference from top to bottom.

The top walkway is also sloped. We miscalculated our rise! Luckily the mistake worked in our favor because we had the extra stones. We backed down the driveway till we had a rise of 36" and used stone 9 as a stair instead of a stepstone.



Once the steps were in place, the hill is much easier to navigate. Perhaps we will add hand rails or a row of solar powered lights.

Next we should add some pretty flowers along the sides, to hold the earth in place and mark it out as a walkway.

It remains to be seen if more people start coming to the front door, but I feel that they certainly will.

And I know for a fact that we will.

Processing and eating an "extra" rooster

Warning - this story contains serious subject matter and describes the steps involved in slaughtering and dressing a formerly living animal. On the other hand this goes on whether you read about it or not, so you might as well.

One morning about six months ago, I watched a very quiet and personal scene in the chicken barn. One of the hens was ready to lay an egg. The rest of the flock was ranging around the yard, finding bugs and worms. Cosmo, our little rooster, was nearby, but Rose wanted to be with her sister Poppy. The two hens clucked and muttered back and forth with each other for a few moments, then Rose hopped up into the box and Poppy stood watch below, with Cosmo nearby. When Rose showed signs of being ready for the egg Poppy began to make little keening noises at the same time Rose did. Soon Cosmo joined in. It seemed to cheer Rose on, and in a few minutes, the egg came out.

Our hens don't spend much time with their eggs. Rose quickly hopped down, shook herself off, and the trio ran out to join the flock.

The same day  I found myself behind a massive truck full of caged chickens. The cages were covered incompletely with heavy tarp, which whipped around in the wind. A vortex of white feathers swirled in the truck's wake. The hens huddled miserably in their wire pens. I didn't count how many rows of cages there were, but I could have and then calculated exactly how many hens were being transported. Maybe they were going to a nice place where they could run around. I doubted it then and I still do.

My darling rooster Cosmo

Until this last year I've been vegetarian but I do eat eggs. I can't do that without knowing, either consciously or down inside that something happens to the brothers of all the hens who lay eggs for me.

Whether the hens are experiencing reasonably natural behavior, or in big factory farms in tiny cages, only the hens get to be part of the equation.

From watching my own rooster Cosmo, I knew what brave, admirable and passionate animals these birds can be. They do fight, and they crow. And of course they don't pay the bills by laying eggs.

There is never enough room for them all. Add another rooster to our farm and he'd turn Cosmo into hamburger!

So for a family with chickens,  extra roosters are a real issue.

A happy life for a productive hen

I'm not even going to go into the big AG side of things right now. That's a whole other story. For an urban farmer, you are giving one set of animals a very idyllic existence, but does your responsibility end there?

Some of us buy all female chicks. We know the roosters go somewhere, but we don't worry about it. Others buy straight run - an unsexed mixture of male and female chicks. When it becomes clear who the roosters are, either by feather characteristics or crowing, they either eat the roos or find someone else to do the honors.

Today, I became that someone else. I've known for a while that I wanted to. It seems better for the roos to have normal lives, but short ones, than to be destroyed at birth and go to waste or to be caged, fattened, and killed without ever experiencing normal chicken instincts.



It also seemed better for a rooster to go straight from his home to his demise than to get dragged to an auction, listen to all the unfamiliar animals, smell their stress, spend a day getting schlepped around, waiting to die. That sounded miserable.

So I took a couple of extra roosters from another farmer, and prepared them for cooking.

I will not show pictures. This was my first solo experience with what is euphemistically called "Poultry Processing" - slaughtering chickens. I didn't waste a moment taking pictures or trying to make things pretty. I was 100% focused on doing it well, making their deaths fast, and (honestly) being done before school got out. I had timed things a little too closely.

Leaving the first one in the transport box, I started in. I hung my bird by his feet, with his head in a bucket. Then I used a very sharp, very small knife to cut the big vein on each side of his windpipe. I have never been more glad that the knives of Several Gardens Farm are always sharp. The cut was neither deep, nor was the skin very tough. It was comparable to cutting through a mango.

The chickens bled a lot. I had seen this done before but was unprepared for the metallic smell, or the huge mess one of them made when I let him go too soon and he thrashed around. I tried not to wonder about how conscious they were, instead to make it fast. A friend and I talk about 'suspending empathy' in order to do a hard task well. That's what I did. I had expected to spend more time in prayer during the event. I didn't at all. Too busy. Note to self, next time pray first.

The hardest part of the day was going back for the second rooster. But I had committed myself at that point, so I did.

It was pretty clear when the birds were dead. Their feet cooled down almost as soon as they stopped bleeding. I held them in hot water to loosen the feathers, and plucked them. Physically this was harder and more miserable than killing them. It took longer, gave me more time to be sad, and was hard to do with any grace. Also there were lots of brand new pin feathers, which for some reason was very heartbreaking. But it had to be done. Unfortunately I tore the skin while plucking. I really hated plucking. I liked working alone for the rest of it but I would have liked help with this part.

Then I cut off the head and feet. After that, they started to look like something from the store. It was easier now.

I chilled one bird while cutting open the other. This part was sort of cool. All the body parts were just where they should be. I'm a biologist, and it was a dissection, what can I say?  Most of all, I had to be careful not to break the intestines (I did break them on one and had to scrub him when I was done) or the gall bladder. Taking out the inner organs was a calmer time that let me stop shaking, get my focus and say my belated prayer.

After removing the innards, I put the two chickens in a sink full of ice water to get their inner temperatures down as low as possible. Then they went into the fridge to "relax" for 24 hours. They were in rigor mortis and become less tough if they're allowed to come back out of it.

Then I had time to reflect. How did I feel?

• I didn't feel guilty. I don't tend to feel guilty once I've made my mind up to do something. I've made my peace.I didn't expect to, but you never know. Guilt can blindside sometimes. 

• I did feel really sad. I wish things didn't have to die. I wish I could ignore it if it has to happen. I think about the other chickens - will they miss these two boys? Sad felt appropriate and I didn't try to block it out.

• I also felt sort of like a criminal. I was afraid a neighbor would see me and turn me in. I found this interesting because most people eat chicken, but you never see the viscera and the blood. Eating a chicken someone else killed = normal. Killing a chicken = j'accuse!

• Oh yeah - the blood. I did not expect to feel so compulsive about cleaning everything that might have touched blood. I went into this concerned about the salmonella in the guts - a real, solid fear. But the blood was sort of a melodramatic reaction I don't usually have.

• I expected to feel gratitude for the roosters, but I would no longer choose that word. Gratitude is for a gift willingly given. When I milk Meggie, and she turns to me and licks my hair as I do it, I'm grateful to her for sharing her bounty. These roosters didn't get a choice. I don't have a word for what I felt toward them in honor of their unwilling sacrifice. But just calling it gratitude is too glib.

• Hungry. I timed it to be done before school got out, but I forgot to fold in time for getting lost on the way to picking them up. So I didn't get to eat. Anyway I didn't think I'd want to. But I did. I have a very hearty appetite.

Two days later, we ate the first of the two roosters. We had our expectations set fairly low. I could see that he was thinner and stringier than a chicken from the store. This makes sense. He spent his days actively seeking food and interacting with other birds, not resting in a cage being fattened up. His life was spent being himself, not being prepared for slaughter.

The whole roast bird was small enough that our family of three ate every bite in one sitting -  and we are moderate meat eaters. The meat was juicy and chewier than a purchased chicken. But oh my - the flavor was superb. We ate the bird roasted with salt and lime but without extra flavoring. The meat was rich, herbal, meaty, and packed with intensity. This sounds corny but the meat tasted like a concentrated essence of sunshine and fresh air. It was clean and nutty and somehow innocent.



To his great credit, Noah ate every bite of the bird and sucked the bits of extra meat off the bones. He is a fussy eater but  he never wastes meat. When his friends leave part of a drumstick, he gently reminds them that meat is special and should be treated with respect.

I think I will do this again. I expect the mechanics to get easier, and my feelings to reach some kind of steady state. Next time I raise a flock, I will certainly choose straight run and plan to eat the roosters, but I may put my feelers out for people who want their roo's dealt with in the meanwhile.

In a dream world somewhere, every animal can live a long, happy, productive natural life. In the world where we live now, this does not happen but at least we can let them fill their shorter lives with as much meaning and dignity as possible.

Shared on homestead barn hop, backyardfarmingconnection, Gastronomical Sovereignty , the-homeacre-hop-12, simple-lives-thursday-140 , littlehouseinthesuburbs , frugal-days-sustainable-ways-68

Yogurt becomes sublime

With Meggie the goat giving abundant milk, our home is never without yogurt. Our yogurt is made without extra dried milk, stabilizers, gelatin, or other additives. Just milk and starter. It is thinner than the kind you buy, too thin to scoop out of the container. Straining if for a few hours yields thick, creamy, Greek style yogurt, plus whey to feed the animals or bake with.

Every day I cut up fruit for breakfast, spoon on yogurt, and drizzle on honey. And every day I wondered if the honey could be mixed in earlier in the process.

Most honey from the store is pasteurized, but at Several Gardens Farm honey is raw, never heated above body temperature.This allows it to keep all its delicate floral profile,but it crystallizes in our cold house. I got tired of our honey's grittiness and inability to mix well with the yogurt.  It forms sweet, sandy lumps, cloyingly perfumed. I  miss the smooth texture, though not the bland taste, of store bought honey.

So as an experiment I mixed the honey in with the milk before I made the yogurt. I also tried a batch of chocolate yogurt. I wasn't sure how it would work. Perhaps the enzymes would interfere with thickening?

Who cares. I am always up for trying something.

Recipe - honey yogurt and chocolate yogurt

Ingredients:

2 quarts milk - we use raw goat's milk
1.5 teaspoon yogurt culture, or 1/2 cup cultured yogurt
2 - 4 tablespoons honey, to taste
Chocolate syrup to taste

Directions:

Place the milk in two, one quart mason jars.


Immerse jars in water to their necks in a saucepan large enough to hold them comfortably

Heat gently until the water just boils. Turn heat to low and simmer  until milk temperature is 175

Remove pan from heat. Let cool naturally till milk is 120

For Pete's sake, don't put jars of hot milk into ice water to cool them faster. It will cause them to crack

Yogurt after draining

Stir the honey into one jar - it should taste sweet but not cloying

Stir the chocolate into the other jar - it will taste like hot cocoa

Stir 3/4 t yogurt culture into a a few tablespoons of the milk from one jar. Once it is mixed, stir it into the whole jar.

Repeat with the other jar.

Place lids on jars

Return the jars to the pot with the water. Put the pot containing the jars into a warm oven

My oven's minimum recorded temperature is 150. I have found if you set it between there and zero it will maintain a warm incubation overnight

Leave the milk for 8 hours, at which time it will have thickened into yogurt.

Refrigerate until cold.

The ducks loved this whey

Line a sieve with a double layer of butter muslin, or with a large coffee filter.

Place a bowl underneath to catch the whey, and pour in the yogurt.

Check it every hour, and when it reaches the texture you want, spoon it into a storage container and refrigerate until serving time.

The whey can be used for baking or fed to livestock. This whey could probably serve as a sweetener for lemonade.

Taste Results

Honey yogurt: 

This is the best yogurt I've ever eaten. It tasted like the angel wings of baby kittens. It tasted like the Moonlight Sonata.


David said it was better than fancy schmancy yogurt from the store.


 Noah exclaimed that it was "fruity... ambrosial... I can taste how good the milk was. I love our goats!"





I could detect flavor notes from the flowers our bees had visited and the grassy orchard where the goats had browsed. It made me think I was outdoors feeling the warm breeze on my skin.

It tasted like a promise fulfilled. Yeah, it was milk and honey like the Good Book makes you think it will taste.

I will be making more soon. Maybe right now.

Chocolate yogurt: 

Sour and chocolate just don't belong together, especially when they are also sweet. This tasted fermented and abrasive and just nasty. Also, the cocoa solids sank during the yogurt culturing process leaving a pale brown yogurt with dark crud in it.

It looked exactly like something you find in a diaper. In a rare fit of good taste, I chose not to post my only photo of it.

The whey was sour, and looked like old coffee. I was not pleased with this yogurt. It almost made me not want chocolate for a few minutes!

It was that bad.

I will try making it again because I'm not easily deterred. I think the idea is good, I just missed something in the execution. I used the first soluble chocolate product that came to hand. This was a cheap and not very good chocolate syrup. Next time I will use honey and cocoa with a good dose of vanilla.

What I learned

You can make yogurt with flavored milk and get good results. The flavor will carry into the yogurt, though the sourness will modify it in unpredictable ways. The culturing process is not disrupted by adding ingredients.

 

Curry yogurt

After my first success, I tried again with curry flavors. Same routine, only I tried stirring in 1 tsp of my favorite blend of curry seasonings into a quart of milk. The yogurt turned a lovely, sunshine yellow with darker golden streaks. The flavor was perfect. The rawness that bothers me in turmeric was softened by the long soak in warm milk, leaving a smooth, satiny texture and a spicy but moderated flavor. The thick, creamy texture felt so rich in my mouth!

Also it was gorgeous dolloped on top of cooked greens, much prettier than cooking the curry and yogurt in with them.

Recipe:

Ingredients:

2 bunches spinach or spinach and mustard greens, stems removed
3 T neutral oil or ghee
1 tomato, chopped
1 small hot pepper or to taste, chopped
1 sweet red pepper, cut into strips (optional)
1/4 onion, chopped
salt and cumin to taste
6 oz paneer cheese or halloumi (less conventional but good), cubed into 3/4" dice
Flour for dredging
Curry yogurt from 1 quart of milk

Directions:

Pat cheese dry with paper towels or lint-free napkin
Lightly coat cheese surfaces with flour
Heat 2 T of the oil or ghee in a pan till nearly smoking
Fry the cheese, tossing and turning it to brown without sticking
Remove to a plate and set aside
Heat 4 cups of water to boil, and briefly blanch the greens
Drain, reserving 1 cup of cooking liquid.
Refresh greens with cold water, and squeeze out most of the extra moisture
Chop greens fine or pulse briefly in food processor.
Heat the remaining oil in the pan at medium. Saute onion and optional salt and cumin till onion is limp
Add chopped tomato, greens, optional sweet pepper and hot pepper.
Turn heat to low, and simmer fifteen minutes or till thick
Place greens in a bowl. Top with cheese, and serve with dollops of curry yogurt

What will I try next?

I know this yogurt flavoring technique would work for vanilla and brown sugar, maple syrup, or salted caramel. Could I make ranch dip this way? Or eggnog flavored yogurt? Coffee or Chai tea? Saffron? Maybe taco seasoned dipping yogurt? What, oh what, shall I try next?

Shared on townsend house,Foodie Fridays, wildcrafting-wednesday, simple-lives-thursday

Making Miso

Miso making supplies

 Quite Simply, I love Miso!

Anyone who knows me will eventually have to endure my obsession with miso.

I eat a simple version of miso soup for breakfast - miso stirred into nearly boiling water. I fancy it up with vegetables, rice, tofu, sea veggies, eggs, or anything else around. I make gravy out of it, or mix it with tomato juice for a refreshing but weird beverage.

It was only a matter of time before some strange mental compulsion led me to make my own. I reasoned, falsely, that it would save money. Or that it would be healthier than the miso I can buy. At least I can buy soy beans that say they are GMO free.

Since I had never made miso before, I didn't have very high expectations. In my experience, it takes a little practice to learn new fermentation projects, even if you think you're doing everything right. In this case, round one was a clear failure.

Miso Fail

My first miso attempt. I began it in March 2012, opened it Feb 2013.

The surface of the aged miso was coated with white, powdery looking mold, which was easily skimmed off. All the books mentioned mold like it was no big deal, so I didn't let that scare me.


I had opted for 'chunky'.Ugh. The very word should have warned me.I found the texture of cold, salty, fermented whole soy beans repulsive.  In future I will thoroughly mash the beans.

Far worse, the miso was rendered inedible by a strong aroma and taste of nail polish. This means it fermented wrong and produced acetone. It fermented badly. It can't be fixed.

I used precisely the proportion of ingredients specified, so it must have been my production methods that led to failure. I think I either let in too much oxygen or didn't press the solids down firmly enough.

Miso's byproduct is tamari (as in soy sauce) which is supposed to float to the surface.In my batch, it didn't, instead remaining mixed in with the miso. I think it was the failure of the tamari to separate that killed the miso, diluting its saltiness and causing a bad fermentation.

Plus, I have to be honest, it tasted like cheap soy sauce you might buy once and make a mental note not to get it next time.

But it's all mine! I was excited to have produced some kind of useful product from this whole fiasco.

Starting Over

When I made the first batch, I used a food grade white plastic bucket. This time I have an actual fermenting crock, which should make a more airtight seal, as well as allowing me to weigh down the miso better.

Hallelujah. I love this fermenting crock!

I was understandably shy of my second try at miso. Before I started, I wanted a quick success, so I made a batch of Amazaki.This is a sweet, mildly fermented rice beverage that turns out to be drop dead easy.I cooked some rice, cooled it to the warm end of lukewarm, mixed in the Koji starter that is also used in miso, and put it in a warm oven overnight. By morning it was so sweet, my husband thought I'd added honey. It will be good mixed 1:4 with our oatmeal instead of honey or sugar. I might see if I can make oat Amazaki, which would be delicious.

With a clear win under my belt, it was time to make some miso. The Koji came with instructions, which I am following. I recommend reading through The Book of Miso by Shurtleff and Aoyagi, for much more in depth information.But in some ways they gave so much information a first time user can get paralysed by it, so a one sheet recipe was helpful.

I increased the recipe because you are supposed to make multiple batches and combine them.I cooked and mixed them all at once, in my giant pressure cooker. Hopefully this won't be a problem.

Unsoaked soy beans are almost spherical

Soaked beans, look like any other bean

First I soaked 8 cups of soy beans overnight.

I discarded the soaking water and the huge quantity of hulls that floated off the beans.

I cooked the beans in a pressure cooker for 20 minutes. I assembled the cooker wrong so it did not raise its pressure. After 20 minutes of trying I gave up and simply cooked the beans the old fashioned way, boiling them for 4 hours until they could be, in the fine words to the Book, "crushed easily between the tips of the thumb and the ring finger".

A small sampling of my gigantic hull collection

Once I the beans were done and slightly cooled, I removed yet more hulls. The hulls were endless.Whenever I thought I was done - presto - more!

I then cooled the beans to 110 degrees, pulverized them and mixed them with 6 cups of their cooking liquid,  koji, and salt. 2 1/2 cups of salt. I made the mistake of tasting the mixture last time and it was salty enough to give me an upset tummy and cause a temporary weight gain. At the time I described the recipe as using enough salt to "kill an elephant". To each 2 cups of beans, I also added 1 1/2 T of "seed" miso.

I then salted the inside of my crock, packed it with the miso-ingredients, covered it with more salt, and sealed it under a sheet of plastic wrap. On top of that were the weights and then the lid with its water seal. No air could get through all those layers, I hoped.




 

Is it worth trying again?

Salt - the not so secret miso ingredient

The time and resources invested were pretty minimal. Prep time was a couple of hours. The aging time was long (I left it for nine months) but aside from checking on it, there was no work involved in that part. Both salt and soybeans, even certified GMO free, are cheap. The bucket was free. The new crock was expensive but I will use it in other projects too.

If this second batch is a success I will continue making miso. If it fails, I admit I will be discouraged. We'll know next spring.

I find I don't particularly mind initial failure. Failure can help me assess how important something is to me. If I want to succeed, I don't begrudge the time, thought and energy to do a postmortem, recheck my equipment and try again. If I feel like quitting, it's likely this wasn't that important to begin with.

I'm not thrilled with trying to dispose of half a gallon of stinky miso, either into the waste bin or into myself, but if I can learn to make a good product in a couple of tries I'll have a lifetime of useful miso in exchange for a few questionable batches. My only real reservation is there's no way to make a small "test" batch, so whatever results I get, I'll have a lot of them.



Oh well. As the old riddle goes:

Q: Which is better, good food, or bad food?

Answer: Bad food. Because bad food is still better than nothing. And nothing is better than good food.

Inspiring, isn't it?

Although in this case, the round one miso may be worse than nothing.

Shared on: homestead barn hop

Buttermilk: a love story

I knew a lovely woman whom a mutual friend described as having a voice like buttermilk. The sound was husky, scratchy, and raw. I thought he was comparing those qualities to the flavor of buttermilk, but he later explained that the parallel was "you don't like it at first, but it's addictive, and soon nothing else will do."

He might have added that her earthy voice, like buttermilk, is one of those old fashions due for a revival.

Originally buttermilk was related to butter. The farmer would save up cream until she had enough to churn. She would agitate it until the fats formed a golden buttery mass, and the liquid separated out. It might take days to accumulate enough, and the cream would sour. The butter had a "cultured" flavor, the liquid was downright sour.

The sour, low-fat liquid was buttermilk. The farmer might give it to a very thirsty child,or mix it with slops for the pigs, take advantage of its acidity as a souring or leavening agent. It was not considered a gourmet treat on its own.

As time passed, fewer people made their own butter, and those who did used well refrigerated cream  so the resulting liquid was no longer sour. And then, as people do, they started craving that tangy, refreshing beverage they had scorned as waste food when it was abundant. 

Nowadays the buttermilk you buy, and the buttermilk I make at home are made from whole or reduced fat milk. It is inoculated with beneficial cultures to create the sour taste. The butter making process has been left out. 

Recipes:

Buttermilk

1 Quart Milk
1/4 cup cultured buttermilk or 1/4 t buttermilk culture or mesophilic culture

Warm the milk to 30 degrees C (about 90 F)
If using buttermilk, add 1/4 cup milk to the buttermilk, mix them together, then mix the mixture into the milk.
If using culture, sprinkle it over the milk and wait 10 minutes for it to hydrate
Mix the milk thoroughly to incorporate the culture
Cover and let sit at room temperature. The time it takes to thicken will vary with temperature. We keep a cold house in the winter, and it often takes 24 hours or longer. Check. When the milk is thick, tangy and sour, it is buttermilk. Refrigerate until needed.

  

Buttermilk Pancakes

The acids in buttermilk make it very special for baking. It combines with baking soda to act as a leavener without needing to use baking powder - a flavor I deeply dislike. Its acids act as a tenderizer, so pancakes or other baked goods have a very pleasing mouth feel, as though you'd used extra butter.

Done to a golden brown

1 cup flour
1 cup buttermilk
1 egg
1 T sugar
1/2 t salt
1/2 t baking soda
2 T melted butter

Mix together dry ingredients.

Mix together butter, buttermilk and egg until well blended

Lightly mix wet and dry ingredients. A few lumps are better than an over mixed batter.

Heat a frying pan or griddle on medium high heat. Grease lightly.

Pour out 1/2 cup batter per pancake. Let them cook until they form bubbles that pop leaving holes in the surface. 

Not ready to flip

Big holes that don't close - ready to flip

Flip. Count to thirty and the other side is done. Check the pan often. Too hot and you will burn your pancakes, too cool and they will stick.

I assume you already know how to serve and eat pancakes.

Buttermilk Cucumber Soup

2 Cups buttermilk

2 Cups peeled and seeded cucumbers, finely shredded

1 Clove garlic, finely crushed and chopped and minced

Salt and pepper to taste

1 t olive oil

Borage flowers to garnish

Mix it all but the last two ingredients together. Chill. Serve garnished with borage flowers and drizzled with a tiny bit of good olive oil.

Buttermilk Fruit Smoothie

1 Cup Buttermilk

1 Cup Frozen Strawberries or Blueberries

1 Cup cut up frozen peaches

Sugar or honey to taste

Add to blender in listed order. Blend until smooth. Drink

A smoothie of buttermilk, peaches and blueberries rivals anything you can buy, make or even imagine. 

It tastes like something woodland faeries might eat.

Buttermilk Spoonbread

1 cup cornmeal
1 1/2  cups boiling water
2 T butter
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
2 eggs
1 t salt
1 t baking soda

Heat oven to 375. Grease a 2 quart baking pan or better yet, grease a cast iron skillet.

Cut up butter and toss with cornmeal. Stir in baking soda.

Pour boiling water over cornmeal mixture and stir to break up lumps. Cool for 15 minutes

Beat together eggs, buttermilk and salt.

Gradually add wet ingredients to cornmeal mixture, stirring well to break up lumps.

Bake 45 to 50 minutes. You may drizzle milk or cream over the surface to keep it from getting crispy (but why would you? I love a crispy surface). Spoon it out onto the plate; the texture is between a souffle and cornbread. Serve hot.

 

Buttermilk Mac n Cheese

Substitute buttermilk for regular milk next time you make home made mac n cheese. You will love it. You can use cheap, not very sharp cheddar and it will still be really sharp.

Buttermilk on its own curdles when heated. Use a starch (cornstarch, a flour roux, tapioca) to thicken. Don't freak when the sauce separates - wait, stir, and soon it will come together again.

Buttermilk also does wonders for mashed potatoes. Substitute it for some or all of the milk and some of the butter. It adds a hint of tanginess and a punch of richness without adding extra fat.

You can just drink buttermilk, too. But I don't think anyone does.

shared on : Homestead Barn Hop, Townsend house, backyard farming connection, Wildcrafting Wednesday,Gastronomical sovereignty, the self sufficient home acre, frugal-days-sustainable-ways, simple-lives-thursday