Fort de Charatres Rendezvous

It's been a tough week since the last post - the destruction of my first garden here on the farm 31 years ago, lots of long hours trying to juggle work, deadlines, introducing a new garden helper to the garden and trying to keep the plants alive that were salvaged from the construction. Lots of bulbs were lost, buried, mashed by the backhoe, but some have survived. Another quite meditation garden will arise somewhere, hopefully.

The exciting thing I want to tell you about is the weekend that my friend, Adam, and I spent at the Rendezvous at Fort de Chartres, near Prairie du Rocher, Illinois. Many of you know it's an annual event for me. I'm excited by the reenactments of the 1700s when the French still controlled much of the Mississippi River valley south to New Orleans. The Rendezvous always falls on Josh's birthday weekend, June 5 & 6, so we celebrated his birthday early and he was happy to have Adam accompany me, giving Josh a quiet time at home to work on his baby chicks, worm farm and raspberry beds.

One of the very interesting people I met at the Rendezvous is Carol Kuntz, who is sort of in charge of the gardens at the Fort. In previous years there wasn't anyone on hand to explain the garden and I had wondered just how historically accurate the gardens were. Carol was on hand, along with some volunteers weeding and tending the garden, and she told me what her and the other volunteers' research has shown. Through some of the surviving documents, but more importantly, from historical recipes from the area, Carol now has a remarkable list of what was grown in the mid 1700s in that location.

There are leeks, onions, scarlet runner beans, lettuce, carrots, relatively ordinary vegetables by our standards, now. Oh, and grapes, too, certainly, for wine. But I was surprised to see eggplant. Carol explained that the French used eggplant, but the English only grew the plant as a decorative. Also cabbages and the raised beds were also authentic to the time, as well.

One of the remarkable aspects of the Rendezvous is how many of the descendants there are, from the period of French occupation. Many local families in the area, can date their history in America to the French occupation.

There are lots of reenactors of all sorts. Some portray French soldiers, others portray English military. There are the voyageurs, Coureur des bois, who were licensed fur trappers. There are always a good representation of Indian tribes, as well. I visited with a group of Indians who I'd met last year and learned more about who they are and what they do.

For example I learned about the coloring they'd painted on their bodies again this year. Out of pure ignorance on my part, I inquired why, if Indians were dark complected, would they paint themselves darker, as these fellows had done. "There's the misconception that all tribes were dark skinned," one of the men said. "The truth is, many tribes were light complected." Painting the body was a form of decoration, just as wearing feathers and beads, a way of showing their finest, and thus, being more impressive and fierce, when visiting some place like the Fort. The paint consists of red ochre, or a similar pigment, mixed with bear's tallow and beeswax (I had wondered why these guys never sweated off their coloring, now I know - it's the beeswax!)

I learned, also, about tattooing, how it had significance for status, not just a decoration as it is today. And I got to examine how the feathers are attached (threading a small tail of hair through the leather that holds the feathers in place). One of the reenactors, Josh, is a student at University of Missouri, Columbia.

Throughout the day there were presentations, a medical reenactor talked about the medicines and methods of the day. There was lots of period music, some dancing, lots of cannon firing, muzzle firing, tomahawk throwing and excellent displays of the edible plants that Native Americans relied upon in the area.

Fort de Chartres, by records of the time, was nearly 50 percent African and there had been a village near the Fort of slaves who had bought their freedom from the French. There had been considerable intermarriage between the freed slaves and the local Indian tribes, and this year for the first time, joining Josh (who's Shawnee) and his band of men, was an African American reenactor and a man who was both African and Indian in ancestry, and they were a good addition to the group.

Food, too is always a big part of the festivities, and it has to be relatively authentic. Roasted corn over a fire, buffalo (fish) from the Mississippi River, homemade ice cream, lemonade, etc. I grew  up eating the fish named buffalo (named because it's nose resembles the snout of a buffalo) and it's one of my favorites. I'd take buffalo over swordfish or grouper any day. The traditional way of cooking it, is to score, or cut, through the rib bones every 1/2 inch and when the fish fries, the bones disappear. I used to spend my summer evenings, running my trotline in the Osage River, bringing home buffalo, and carp, my other favorite.

In the afternoon I asked Adam if he'd had enough and wanted to leave. (I'm prone to spending a great deal of time talking to people and learning about what they do, and taking hundreds of photos, not everyone can be patient while I do that). He said he was having fun, had not yet seen everything and wondered if we were coming back the following day (we didn't, opting for the Missouri Botanical Gardens). The Rendezvous, this year the 40th, offers a lot of information about gardens, plants, how people lived, what they ate and a lot of history for people of all ages. It was fun to see how entire families of reenactors came for the whole week (only the weekend is open to the public). What a wonderful way for kids to experience history, vividly, with the smoke, the food and the great outdoors.

We arrived back home on Sunday evening and Adam packed his car and headed to New Mexico on Monday for his next gardening adventure. We enjoyed his company and creativity in the garden and are grateful for the progress and inspiration his visit brought.

Happy gardening to all and to all, a good night.

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Incredible Corn, WWOOFers and Bees

It's hard to read about the horrific flooding in Pakistan, with an estimated 20 million people without homes or even places to sleep. I'm so sorry for their pain and loss. I wish I could send them some of the drought that grips southern Missouri and northern Arkansas. Some of the dry soil to soak up their wet. And they could send us some of their rain. We, here on Long Creek Herb Farm have not had rain in 7 weeks, and even that recent one was less than 1/2 inch. That puts us at over 2 months without rain. Combine that with our porous, rocky, quick draining soil, and you know the garden is struggling.

Ginny, who came from near Bloomington, Indiana as a WWOOFer, just left after her 2 weeks' WWOOFing experience with us. She had a wonderful attitude, an interest in every job and every plant, bug and animal on the farm. Much of what she had to do while here was weed, water and harvest. It takes up much of every day moving sprinklers and soaker hoses, but with temperatures hitting the 100 mark most afternoons, no one works outdoors in that kind of heat. Ginny is a poet, an artist and a chemical technician, and she felt working on a farm to be a delight. Thanks Ginny, we enjoyed your time here!

Every year for the past several, my favorite corn has been Incredible (follow that link to see where you can order it). It's a bi-color, super-sweet, 80 day corn that holds its flavor well after picking. In fact, I've kept it up to 3 weeks and it's still almost as good as fresh. I always eat at least one ear, fresh, before I get out of the garden with a handful of ears for supper. Everyone at our table has said, "This is the best tasting corn I've ever eaten." This year I planted my reliable Incredible Sweet Corn on the first of May, and we  had an excellent and bountiful crop by mid-July. As an experiment, I tried a new variety this year for my second and third plantings, one called, "Gotta Have It" (pictured above), from Gurney's Seed. It's a risk, playing around with corn varieties when you already have a favorite, but I tried this one anyway. And I'm not disappointed. It is nearly as good as Incredible, and miles above what you buy fresh at grocery store.

When I pick corn from the garden, the goats come up to the fence, hoping for a handout. This is Billy, who pushes all the nannies away while he eats his fill. Once he gets bored, the nannies get to eat.

The chickens, too, come up to the fence. They get the top and bottom slice of the ear of corn, when I cut the ears to take off the shucks.

Right over the chickens and goats heads is this peach tree. The peaches are nearing ripeness. Back earlier this spring, there were so many peaches that Adam tied up the branches so they wouldn't break. Occasionally a peach falls into the chicken yard and the hens eat it.

The little goat babies all stand and watch as the adults eat the corn trimmings. They nibble at a shuck now and then, but for the most part, they're not interested. Notice their horn "decorations?" The little ones, as they reach their teenage months (that's about 2 months' old), manage to get their little heads stuck in fences. They've not learned they have horns and so, anytime they see something interesting on the other side of the fence, they get stuck. Josh heard about this method on the 'net and it works well. It's just short lengths of lightweight plastic tubing with a hose clamp for each horn. They were all embarrassed and complained loudly for the first day, but got used to the horn hoses. They do look, well, unusual, don't they?

"Blondie" is the variety of okra we're growing this year and it has performed well. The plants get only about shoulder high and produce a continuous supply of okra for at least 2 months. My method for preserving okra usually is to slice it crosswise, dip in buttermilk, then cracker or corn meal, and freeze it on cookie sheets. But we've been enjoying it so much this year cooked a new way, I haven't frozen any. The method? Take whole, young okra pods, spray them all over with cooking oil, lay on a baking sheet and broil at 450 degrees F, rolling them around every 4 or 5 minutes. They're ready to eat when they are beginning to brown on the edges, about 15 minutes total cooking time. Give them a dusting of salt and they're ready to eat. The flavor is delicious and they're not slimy inside like you might imagine.

I've been wondering what Matthew's bees do in extreme dry, hot weather and a couple of mornings I found out. There were rows of bees lined up, upside down along the edge of my water garden, drinking water. Some were on the tops of lily pads, sticking their tongues under the leaves, some were flying around, waiting their turn. I'd never seen bees lined up to drink before!

It hardly looks like a drought when you look at the water pool in the garden. But everything is struggling to stay alive. The raspberries have lost their leaves, the blackberries that should be producing the late crop, are possibly dead. Trees are losing their leaves and the lawn is a crisp, unhappy brown.

 I just posted a recipe for Rose and Yogurt Dressing on my recipes blog. If you'd like to find new ways to use your summer roses, check out my recipes there. Happy gardening!

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The Strawberry Cake Story

I always hesitate to tell this story, it just sounds too strange and unbelievable, but a few folks asked me to. My birthday's over,  and I'm just now making THE strawberry cake. Our Friday night dinner group consists of 11 people, out of those, 3 have birthdays in late May. So tonight we're going out for dinner at Devito's Restaurant and Trout Farm and since I didn't make myself my favorite strawberry cake on my birthday, this will be the cake we 3 who have birthdays this week and last, will share.

The actual and real, I swear, story of this cake, follows here. Believe it, because it's true, but if you don't choose to believe, that's ok, I understand. It all started my first year in the Air Force, 1967. I'd been away at college for 2 years, the Army and the Vietnam war were breathing down my neck. I chose the Medical Corps in the Air Force and that May was my first birthday away from home. Before, even while in college, I always returned home for my birthday, where my mother made my favorite of all cakes - strawberry. I'm guessing the recipe had come from one of the women's magazines my mother read, because it is wholly a 50's style cake. There is nothing healthy or wholesome in it.

Knowing I was not getting to come home for my birthday, I planned ahead, asking my mother to write mail the recipe to me. I attended church off-base, in town each Sunday. There was a group of college students and Airmen who met for study in the Church annex and someone always brought food to go with coffee. I thought sharing my favorite cake would be a great way to celebrate.

I had a desk in my barracks room which I shared with a roommate. I stored my mother's strawberry cake recipe in my one drawer. I had asked Connie, one of the girls in our Sunday group if I could come to her house to make the cake on Saturday and we could store it in the annex's refrigerator until Sunday. She agreed and I bought the necessary ingredients on Friday.

Saturday morning I was excited to get the cake project underway. I had the ingredients already in my vehicle, but when I opened the desk drawer, the cake recipe was nowhere to be found. I looked and looked, turning everything upside down, asked my roommate, looked in the groceries, in my pockets, all to no avail. The recipe was lost. Food for me, is always a connection to emotion, to nostalgia, to good memories, and I was miserable. I wanted that cake.

It was pouring down rain as I drove to Connie's house, very sad. I really wanted to taste that cake badly, and I really wanted to share it with my friends. I didn't start crying like a baby, but I darned well felt like it. I parked near Connie's house, thinking I would just take the ingredients inside and leave them for her family as I couldn't do anything with frozen strawberries, eggs, oil, etc.

When I stepped out of my truck, the wind was blowing the rain so hard it immediately soaked my shirt and the paper grocery bags. I walked toward the house with my head down to avoid as much of the blowing rain as I could. Looking down to avoid stepping in puddles on the sidewalk, I saw a small piece of soggy paper. I nearly didn't stop, but I bent down and picked it up out of curiosity. It couldn't be. How was this possible? It was A strawberry cake recipe! Not the one my mother had typed out for me, this one was in a handwriting I didn't recognized. I stood there, dumbfounded. I tried to figure out how this strange coincidence could be. The water running down my back, through my underwear and jeans and down my legs, brought me back to reality. I ran on to Connie's house, losing the box of frozen strawberries out of the now disintegrated grocery bag.

Indoors, Connie handed me a towel and helped me retrieve the groceries. As we spread everything out on the kitchen counter, I told her my story of the disappearing recipe and the incredible appearance of the new one I held in my hand. She nodded and smiled, but obviously didn't believe me. I couldn't blame her, had I not witnessed it myself, I wouldn't have believed it, either.

We made the cake. The ingredients were similar to my mom's recipe, but slightly different. Egg whites instead of whole eggs, for instance. Sliced fresh strawberries instead of frozen. But the cake was baked and appeared all right. We let it cool, iced it, then drove to the church and put it in the refrigerator for morning. But wait, this isn't the end of the story!

Next day when we arrived early to make coffee, Connie went to get the cake. She came back and said the cake wasn't there. I looked in the refrigerator, too. We looked in the church's big walk-in refrigerator, asked the associate pastor. Nothing. As the coffee perked Connie excused herself and went to the lady's bathroom. She came back carrying a wastebasket. In it, was my cake, still intact except for one missing piece.

We had about 30 people in our group and as they arrived I told them about the cake and how disappointed I was in not getting to share it with them. (And how I really wanted to have some myself). It took weeks for the mystery to be unraveled, but in the end, a girl I had dated one time (and not again because she was absolutely crackers) was jealous that I'd gone to Connie's to make the cake. She discovered the cake in the church refrigerator, ate a piece, cried, and dumped the rest in the trashcan, as revenge! But wait, this also isn't the end of the story!

Every year when I get ready to make mom's strawberry cake, the recipe is no where to be found. I keep it in a notebook of recipes, I even check during the winter, but when my birthday rolls around, it's nowhere to be seen. I have a special pocket for it in my file, I always put the recipe there when I find it again, but when I make the cake, I wind up using the recipe I found on the sidewalk. So one of my reasons for waiting a week to make the cake, was to see if the right recipe would stay where I put it last year. It was where it was supposed to be.  I used Mom's recipe this year. In the photo you can see both hers and the one I found on the sidewalk in the rain in 1967.

Because several people asked, here's Mom's recipe. It may not sound like it, but is so incredibly good that I would probably eat the whole thing, which is why I'm sharing it with our dinner group tonight, to save me from myself. As I warned earlier, it's a typical 1950s recipe, there is absolutely nothing healthy in this except for the strawberries.

Strawberry Cake

1 box white cake mix
1 small box strawberry Jell-O (dry)
Scant cup cooking oil
4 egg whites
1/2 cup water

Mix thoroughly with electric mixer or by hand. Then add 1 box (about a cup) of thawed, frozen strawberries, mixing by hand to combine. Pour into oiled, floured 9 x 13 baking pan and bake at 325 degrees F. until a knife inserted into center comes out clean.

Icing
1/2 cup (1 stick) softened butter, combined with 1/2 cup formerly frozen strawberries and 2 cups powdered sugar, mixing well. Spread on cooled cake. (I use half cream cheese, half butter instead of all butter).

Josh picked another 3 gallons, bringing the total up to a little over 6 gallons of cherries off of the one, dwarf Montmorency cherry tree. He bought a new cherry pitter, and it works like a charm. It's not electric or anything automatic, but it does make this job a whole lot easier. He's freezing the cherries in pie-sized batches (4 cups). I made a pie a couple of days ago out of the first picking. It's great to have a winter's supply of good pie cherries.

I'm really glad my birthday comes during strawberry (and cherry) season. Happy Gardening!

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Ketchup and Catch-Up

I wanted to start today's posting with the photo I took in the National Mustard Museum, which I wrote about 3 weeks ago, of a sign which read, "Eating Ketchup is believed to cause childhood stupidity (be safe, eat more mustard)" But I evidently sent it to the trash. So just imagine it here. Today's posting is catch-up (or ketchup, if you want), several things I would have posted this week had we not been getting ready for the MEGA GARAGE Sale. We filled one 14 ft. U-Haul truck, plus 3 stuffed full pick-ups and drove it via caravan, to our friends, Neil  and Sarah's house in Forsyth, MO. They have good traffic past their house, while we have maybe 2 cars a day. The sale went well and the living room and storage building are basically empty. (What I wanted for my birthday, coming up next weekend, was a garage sale, or you can read it another way, I wanted some new furniture and the garage sale was the means to get it). So, on to the catching-up.

I met Brian Paffin at the Carmel-Indianapolis "Dilly of a Day" herb day and was immediately impressed by his candles he had for sale. Candles are candles, right? Not exactly. His are made of soy oil, so no smoke, but the better aspect, is the fragrances he uses. You can read more about his tantalizing candles on his website, Herbal Art website. I bought a candle with the scent of Dirt (really - it smells like fresh plowed garden), and 2 Peach Sangria candles. They're so good I wonder if people try to eat them. His products include soaps, body products, wedding gifts, fund raising products and a lot more. You'll be pleasantly surprised at his very creative, unusual, high quality products.

We had a wonderful visitor in the garden guesthouse last week. Pat Crocker, of Riversong Herbals in Ontario, who's best known for her books, The Juicing Bible and the The Smoothies Bible, stopped by for a visit. She was on her way back home in Canada from having been the keynote speaker at the Ozark Folk Center's annual Spring Herb Extravaganza. We know Pat through the International Herb Association and Garden Writers of America and always look forward to getting to spend time with her. Her book, The Juicing Bible won 'Best in the World' in the nutrition category in Perigueux, France, in 2000! We talked about the International Herb Assoc.'s annual conference in Collinsville, IL, in July, where she and I will be 2 of the 4 hosts for what's called, "hosted dinners." It's a great way for conference attendees to get to visit over dinner about a specific  subject, sort of like a mini-workshop, with food, in small groups. 

And next on my list of catch-up, is this wonderful book from Jennifer Vasich, The Lavender Gourmet, from Moose Run Publications. I didn't count the recipes, but there are 325 pages of them. Here are some examples of the taste-tempting recipes Jennifer has: Lavender Mint Brownies,  Vanilla Lavender Hot Chocolate, Raspberry Lavender Sorbet, Lavender Chicken with Lemon Butter Sauce, Southwest Chicken Lavender Enchiladas, Basil & Lavender  Pesto, Hibiscus Lavender Lemonade. I could go on, but the best compliment I can give this book, is, I wish I had written it. Jennifer created a book that will likely change the way you think about lavender.

My lavender isn't blooming yet, but the garden looks better every day. Even with nearly 5 inches of rain this week (including during the garage sale), the garden is coming alive. Adam, who I've written about several times, is here for another couple of weeks, and has done wonders in the garden. Nearly all the beds are fully planted, most are mulched and now we're working on expanding the garden to the south to make room for a row of grapes. Yes, I know, the garden is already more than we can take care of without help, but, it's grapes and I found some 3 year old plants in 5 gallon buckets, blooming and ready to give us grapes. 

Our irises have been beaten hard by the pounding rains, but still manage to bloom vigorously. This one is 'Betty Wold,' simply because the late Betty Wold is the one who gave it to me 20 years ago. Many of the plants in my non-edible garden are named for who they came from, rather than a distant Latin name. So when the Betty Wolds are in bloom, I stop and smell them every day, trying to memorize the fragrance for later. Much like the way different colored tulips have different smells, so do iris. These deep purple Betty Wolds are the most fragrant of all, so delicious you want to spread some on buttered bread (IF they were edible). Or stuff a pillow with the flowers and take a nap. Thank you, Betty, I think of our friendship every spring.

And because it's Sunday and the rhubarb is ready, I made a strawberry-rhubarb pie. I think it turned out pretty well, although the taste will be the real test. This is a recipe a friend gave me many years ago, simple, quick, and my favorite. It's 4 cups of cut up rhubarb (or 3 cups rhubarb, 1 cup sliced strawberries), 1 1/3 cups of sugar (I used part non-sugar sweetener), 6 tablespoons flour and a few dots of butter. Mixed together, poured into a pie shell and topped with another pie crust, it's baked at 400 degrees F. for 10 minutes, then baked for another 40-45 minutes at 375 degrees F. It will be the top-off to one of our favorite Sunday dinners tonight: meatloaf, baked beans, spring salad, and....rhubarb pie. It is the best reason for growing rhubarb!


Happy gardening.

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Meyer Lemon Sorbet -- Dessert Don't Get More Local Than This

A quick glance at the original date of this post confirms that I began writing about this scrumptiously fresh citrus dessert nearly two years ago, in July of 2008. I guess it's true that good things come to those who wait...

I think of this delightful sorbet as a uniquely Californian dessert, mostly because I had never heard of or seen a Meyer lemon before we moved here.  But here in Berkeley, they are practically ubiquitous. (For those of you who are interested in the fruit's actual provenance, this type of lemon is originally from China.)

Our yard is graced by an outrageously abundant Meyer lemon tree. We're thoroughly mystified by its fecundity -- we never water it (which is significant since it does not rain for 6 months out of the year here), nor have we ever fertilized it, yet it churns out Meyer lemons like they were going out of style.

The tree has such a prolific presence in our yard that "memon" is one of our son, Will's first words. As soon as we take him outside, he toddles over to the tree saying "memon" over and over in a soft, delighted, little voice that he reserves for the lemons, alone. Then he picks one (there is some parental assistance involved in that process) and walks around sucking on it and biting off small pieces of the soft peel with his three little teeth. 

But back to the sorbet. While the subtle, floral flavor of the Meyer lemons is uniquely lovely, you can easily substitute regular lemons or another citrus fruit if you can't find Meyers.

It turns out that sorbet is surprisingly easy to make, especially if you have an ice cream maker (or have a friend who has one - thanks again, Ben!)

I've included the instructions for what to do if you do not have one, though. Thanks to Elise at Simply Recipes for providing the recipe below.

Meyer Lemon Sorbet

Makes 2 1/2 cups

Ingredients

* 1 cup sugar

* 1 cup water

* 1 cup freshly squeezed juice from meyer lemons (about 4-5 lemons)

* 2 teaspoons fine lemon zest

* Mint leaves (for garnish)

Directions

1. Freeze your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions (it's probably easiest just to keep the freezer container in your freezer so that you can be ready to go whenever the urge to make sorbet or ice cream strikes you.)

2. In a small saucepan on medium high heat, make a simple syrup by heating sugar and water until the sugar has completely dissolved. Remove from heat and let cool. Mix in the lemon juice and zest. Chill in the refrigerator.

3. Once the mixture has thoroughly chilled, pour it into the ice cream maker and process per the instructions for sorbet (most likely you will need to run it for 20-30 minutes.) If you don't have an ice cream maker, you can pour the mixture into a shallow pan and freeze in your freezer until semi-solid. Then take a fork and fluff it up, returning it the the freezer to freeze firm. Then put in a food-processor or blender to process until smooth.

4. Transfer the sorbet to an airtight container and freeze until ready to serve. A melon-baller works well to scoop this out when you're ready to serve. Garnish with the mint leaves.

You may also like:

• Candied Bergamot, Meyer Lemon & Blood Orange Peels
• Fresh Peach Cobbler With Biscuit Topping
• Rustic Plum Tart
• Wild Blackberry Sorbet With Lavender & Garden Mint

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