The Hood River "Fruit Loop" Reprised
(In search of gorgeous pears)

I always have the urge to lie down in the middle of tall grasses or corn mazes and just look up at the sky through the canopy of green. Then I remember that I'm 37 years old and the world is populated by other people. What I want is to make everything more simple. I want time to stop. Right here in this moment. I want to look up and watch the clouds and be able to forget everything else. Can you see how cold and bright the air was near Mt. Hood? Can you smell the winter coming? Wouldn't this be a great spot to curl up in to hibernate?

Exactly 364 days previously I stood in this precise spot wearing different socks and shoes.

Never were we happier to see this very old (but working) gasoline pump. As you shall hear.

Finding this pub only one block from the gas station made a great finish to a dubious adventure.

I really don't know what it is about the Hood River "Fruit Loop", but I can't apparently visit it without having a very long unexpected day of it. My mom called me this week and told me about a "Pear Party" the Oregonian mentioned that was taking place at Rasmussen Farms and she thought it sounded like fun and would I like to go? It just so happens that I've been wondering where I am going to find some really good pears to preserve to finish off my canning season. It also just so happens that I had been wishing to somehow find my way back to Rasmussen Farms where there are huge bins of gorgeous pears and apples. So we decided to go, dragging my friend Lisa K. who is visiting us from North Carolina.

Last year's adventure to Rasmussen Farms with Lisa E. and three children was extremely stressful but I figured that was just because all the children hadn't been sedated properly with narcotics. I didn't realize that there is a nefarious hex spread over the Hood River region.

Visiting the farm itself was really nice. It was a gorgeous day and without the clamor of bickering children it was quite peaceful. We tasted some really awful Oregon wines and ports which repeated on me later...(how is that possible, anyway?)...and I bought 85 pounds of red Bartlet pears and a smallish box of apples. When we'd gotten our fill of fruit bins and farm dust, we headed down highway 35 and decided to take it all the way around the mountain as Lisa and I did last year. You really get to see some spectacular scenery.

It was portentous I think that earlier in the day we were discussing all the stupid decisions people make when visiting wild unfamiliar territory that leads them to die, or leads their friends to die and have to be eaten, or to them just being lost forever and ever. Mountains and snow have a tendency to swallow up unprepared people. I boldly stated that that's why I am not a wilderness babe. I also, somewhat unwisely, declared myself to be one of those people that tend to provision myself against calamity.

My mom, apparently, is not one of those people, and forgot to fill up her gas tank before embarking on this rather long day trip out of the known urban territory of Portland. I think that it's easy for Prius owners to get a little cocky about filling up their tanks because of the great gas mileage their cars get. So far, however, no one's been able to build a car that runs on air. Such a pity, don't you think?

We didn't discover this minor problem until we had left all humanity behind and were on the ribbony road that travels between the great steep densely treed hills in the Mt. Hood National Forrest. Right after we passed civilization. When the gas light went on and beeped itself against the happy chatter in the warm car, my mom pulled over in a panic. Realizing that she hadn't filled the tank was a bad moment. Lisa and I both thought we could travel a little distance after the gas light goes on since it's usually a warning to get yourself to a gas station. My mom wasn't convinced.

So we tried to think whether it would be better to go forward or to head back in the direction we had come from. I think I wasn't really scared, but when we stepped out of the warmth of the car into the early evening air I did think how ironic it was that we had no provisions against a cold night, even though I supposedly am a prepared person. It was flipping FRIGID outside!!

I don't personally own a cell phone, something many people find annoying, and I did think how fortunate it was that I was traveling with two cell phone users. I was thinking how there really are situations when a person is truly glad to have a cell phone. This was obviously a great time to have one.

Except that when you leave civilization behind you also often leave behind all cell phone signal power. That is when I felt a real frisson of fear. We flagged down vehicles and one lady promised to call the police or roadside assistance just as soon as she could get a signal on her phone. Her Great Dane was not fond of us.

We finally flagged down a guy in a dubious looking van who (luckily) didn't turn out to be a mass murderer and suggested that we head back in the direction from which we came because it was all down hill which would use less gas, and furthermore, he was sure we could travel a certain number of miles before the tank was completely empty. Smart guy, as it turns out.

My mom managed to drive the car on neutral most of the way back to civilization. After stopping someone else to ask about the nearest gas station we found we'd just passed the turn off to one. So we headed ourselves and our evaporating tank towards Parkdale. This is a charming tiny town that will have a spectacular view of Mt. Hood erupting should it ever blow. The most beautiful thing about Parkdale is that it has a very old gas station that pumps very fresh gasoline.

When we all sat for a moment and let out the tension, now replaced by some pretty satisfying relief, we were all able to notice how hungry we had become. Danger is a hungry business, in case you didn't know it. How lucky is a town that has, not only a gas station, but also a pub that brews it's own beer? The "Elliot Glacier Public House" has a great pale ale called "Parkdale Pale Ale" that they brew on site, really good simple food, and a really happy cozy atmosphere. It was so good that I know I'm going to have to come back with Philip and Max.

But the next time I come to the Hood River region I'm bringing the following provisions:

1. A gas can full of gas.

2. Water jugs full of water.

3. Food provisions.

4. Matches.

5. Blankets.

6. Flashlight.

7. Ham radio.

8. My most recent will.

9. A six pack of beer.

10. A bear trap.

11. A rifle.

12. A nail file.

13. A spare car battery.

14. Toilet paper.

15. Snowshoes.

16. A knife.

17. Roller skates. (you never know.)

18. Gum.

19. My Vespa.

20. Paper and a pen and a pin so I can pin a farewell note to my body before I die.

Salsa Water

Notice the lipstick? I must say, lipstick really makes a difference. I've known this for so long it amazes me that I ever forgot. I do remember declaring when I was seventeen and stupid that I would never be caught dead leaving the house without make up. That was back before I learned not to use the cursed word "never". You may find yourself wondering how the hell I can bring myself to wear such outre sunglasses...but if you're asking this question then you are behind the times my friend. Didn't you know that the '80's is the new '70's?

(I have a whole dissertation in my head about the asinine nature of this particular statement which is forever cropping up in fashion magazines "Pink is the new black", "50 is the new 40" (with regards to age), "Casual is the new formal"...etcetera. You may as well say that "Penis is the new vagina" for all it really makes any sense.)

Yesterday was another gorgeous day to be out and about. I had to go back to the farm to pick up the peppers I left there, so obviously I had to pick more tomatoes too. And a few more jalapenos. I thought I might take you along. This is what the world looks like from my scooter. Hop on man, let's go to the farm! (Doesn't that make this post so interactive you almost feel the bugs in your own hair?)

Here is one of the many crosses I see on the road sides. This particular road has it's share of ghosts. I don't know what happened to Kate, Katie, and Michael, but I'm pretty sure they were Hispanic and catholic. I only guess this due to the exuberant display of catholic offerings with the slightly cooler Latino flair than my own catholic relatives are likely to have. I risked my limbs for this shot. The road is very small and there's no place to really pull over. I wonder if that's how Kate, Katie, and Michael bit it? Were they just trying to get a more pastoral shot of this pretty landscape when they were tragically bumped into the next life?

Another ghost on this road is a young man who apparently died trying to procure drugs which he was rather fond of. Meth was his nectar. Unfortunately, his body was recently found in a fifty gallon drum on a farm on this road. See, I can't stop thinking about it which I would like to do, but I read the paper last week (big mistake) and this is what I find out about. This is not useful news to me. I already am aware that there are thousands of lost bodies stashed in weird places on the planet just waiting to be discovered, or not. I don't actually need to know the precise location of where they were stashed once found, especially when it's in my neck of the woods.

This is heaven. An endless field of tomatoes. Tomatoes as far as the eye can see. My ambition is to fill every cupboard space in my house with canned tomatoes so that all winter long I can open up that sunshine and have myself some home-made tomato soup on a cold winter day with a hunk of home made bread. I had a great talk with one of the farm owners, Chris, about their policy on pesticides. Bernard's Farm rarely sprays their crops, and when they do the only thing they use is an organic natural rosemary oil. Chris says it's important to her that people be able to go out in her field, pick a tomato, and eat it right there without worrying about chemical contamination. However, they cannot be certified organic because they use a non organic fertilizer.

This is how many tomatoes fit in my apron.

(I was on a role with this post when I got a call from the school that Max had a bloody nose that wouldn't stop and it had been twenty minutes and he was getting really upset...I just got back from sitting with him while the dizziness subsided. You can't call the hospital for advice on whether you should come in to emergency or not, and the advice nurse at the doctor's office is never immediately available and generally will call you back within two hours.

So essentially, we're always in our own hands when it comes to drawing the emergency line. That really sucks. Our doctor told us that a twenty minute nose bleed is the limit they should go, beyond that we should take Max to the hospital. But what the hell will they do for him? This one stopped right at about twenty minutes. I think the office gets tired of seeing my son and I feel bad for Max having to be the kid who is always bleeding.)

This is what I took home with me.

Heading back to the barn to weigh up my pick. I love it here. It's a very calm productive spot full of potential meals and abundance, I find it addictive to come pick my own vegetables here. I love it even more now that I know for sure that they don't spray with anything except a rare dose of rosemary oil.

Before heading into the barn I couldn't help but stop to pick a few jalapenos since I used up most of my stash the day before. I didn't wear gloves to pick them. We need to talk about that later.

Over forty pounds of produce for $19.00 is such a great price. Especially when most of that is tomatoes. I fit it all on my scooter. I admit that there are moments at the grocery store and at the farms when I wonder if I'll really be able to fit it all onto my little vehicle, but I always manage.

Tuesday I made a salsa recipe that I got from Karmyn at Dreaming What Ifs... and then yesterday I used a recipe from a pamphlet of recipes developed by The Pacific Northwest Extension. The one I did yesterday was supposed to make 16 to 18 pints of salsa. That would certainly have been the case if what I wanted was SALSA WATER. I not only squeezed all the seeds out (the juiciest bit) but I had to cook that salsa for over an hour and also ladle out several quarts of watery tomato juice. I like salsa to be thick enough to hang onto a chip. So what I ended up with after a huge day of work was 8 pints of salsa.

I also made some stewed tomatoes from the leftover fifteen pounds of tomatoes I picked on Tuesday. They turned out really well, I mean, they didn't ooze out of the jars after removal from the boiling water bath, and nothing floats to the surface. I want to do this recipe I found in a British preserving book but I can't figure out how to make it work with the recommendations of the USDA. So then I was thinking of freezing some tomato sauce or soup, but I know tomatoes can well so I'm reluctant to waste energy freezing anything I'm unsure of.

I've also slow roasted a couple of batches. I will certainly post the recipe for these in the next couple of days. The great thing is that you don't need a bushel of tomatoes and it takes almost no work to do them.

Here are a few tips I'd like to give to anyone who is canning this week:

• Obviously don't douse yourself in boiling water. You'd think this is something we all already know, yet only two weeks ago I shuffled across my patio with a pot of boiling water and got myself good. So really: Don't run with boiling water kids...

• You know how people are forever saying you should handle all hot peppers with gloves? I'm a tough girl and I don't listen to pansy advice like this, do you? There's a difference between chopping three roasted jalapenos and de-seeding sixteen of them raw. The difference is: skin that burns for 12 hours no matter how hard you try to scrub your skin off of your hand. Yes, I bought myself some latex gloves for the purpose of handling hot peppers and the next time you plan to handle hot peppers, I recommend you follow that advice. Unless you are one of those people that find pain sexy, in which case go ahead and take the pain highway, just don't tell me how much you like it because things will be uncomfortable between us for a while if you do.

• If a salsa recipe says the yield will be 8 pints, be advised that in all likelihood what they mean is that you will get 8 pints of SALSA WATER, or 4 pints of regular salsa. Ladling out the watery part that settles on the top will reduce the total time it takes to get your salsa to a regular consistency.

Now I must be off to cook more tomatoes. Which I don't feel like doing because I am coming down with a cold. Think I can trick it into never arriving? I am actually shocked that it has been over a year since the last time I got a cold. Ever since Max was born I went from getting sick once a year to getting every single cold that drifted through town. Hell, if Carla in Kentucky got a cold I'd get it from her. This is the first year that I've gone back to my normal cold programming. I still wish I wasn't feeling it coming on though. So maybe I should make some delicious soothing tomato soup?

Note: Finally the advice nurse called me back and guess what? After a year of torture and agony and us begging for answers or help with the bloody nose situation, they've made us an appointment with the ear throat nose specialist. Of course, I know what will happen there too. They're going to tell us there's nothing that can be done, there are no answers that we don't already have. But the point is: it took a year for the doctor to decide that this might be an issue? They didn't think this was an appropriate step way back in (whenever that was) when I almost passed out from the bloody nose that came out both nostrils like a river for twenty minutes and the only reason I didn't pass out was because Philip DID?

The Last Ten Days In Pictures

(Plus: lyrics to live by)

One of my old friends in the Portland Rose Garden "Frederick Mistral". His scent is a heady old rose scent, his leaves are healthy and relatively disease free, his growth is prolific. He likes to get very tall. He is generous with his blooms all season. I will be planting one of this rose in my new garden and if you're looking for a great rose with rich scent, I highly recommend this one.

The rose garden is so sprawling, so large, it is difficult to capture it's scope with a camera, at least a camera like mine. I didn't see the whole thing on our visit. I'm hoping to go once more this season which must be about to end.

Now I'm not positive (because a couple of days have passed already) but I think this is a rose called "Karen Blixen" that I've never grown. She doesn't have a stunning scent, but the blooms are really elegant and arching (weak necks) which is not ideal if you like erect stems, but when arranging bouquets in old teapots, which I like to do, arching stems make for a better arrangement.

My mom giving the ol' sniff test. Like most of them, this one failed. So sad. So unnecessary. It's time that all rose breeding programs included a direction in scent. There are enough mild and scentless roses to please those who prefer them (or who are allergic to strong scent). I love that David Austin makes that a priority, though what he likes about the "musk" scents he sometimes comes up with is a huge mystery to me. But his rose "Abraham Darby" is brilliant with it's rich warm rose scent and it's prolific growth and gorgeous form. Sorry, I'm getting carried away aren't I?

Lots of eggplant fun in the past week. Not everything I made turned out as good as could be hoped. These did though. Simple round slices of eggplant grilled to perfection on the BBQ after being brushed with a rosemary marinade.

These stuffed round eggplants turned out pretty good, the stuffing which consisted of the insides of the eggplant sauteed with sliced stale bread, dried thyme, fresh tomatoes, onion, butter, olive oil, and lemon zest turned out superb...but the stuffing was so good that we kind of didn't enjoy eating the plain eggplant it was stuffed into. So as pretty as these are, I am going to do this again as an eggplant casserole or as a stuffing for something else such as big zucchinis or tomatoes.

The commissioned project I did to cover my friend Sylla's chair cushions. This is the before picture. I don't blame her for wanting to have them covered.

Especially in this wonderful bark cloth!! This was a very satisfying project. I did have to redo one of the zippers which sucked, but that's the way it goes. Better to redo it and preserve my professional reputation than to let anyone think I do shoddy work.

She was pleased with the results too which is the most important thing.

And lastly, this was a superfine summer meal we had. Freshly picked corn on the cob with a nine dollar sandwich made with bread from our local bakery "Red Fox Bakery", and grilled eggplant, pesto, tomatoes, and mozzarella cheese. Oh my. So good. It's making me hungry right now.

It's such a relief to have pictures again. The main computer is still not fixed. The motherboard was fried and can't be easily fixed because it's a Dell and they have all kinds of proprietary issues. We've been debating how to proceed. We could have another computer built more cheaply, to replace this one, but we are leaning towards fixing what we have because this is a chance to not throw something away. Something I want to be more careful about in my life. It's so tempting to just start over with a computer, it can be cheaper, but overall, if we can just fix up what we have and throw away only 25% of it (the motherboard and the case for the hard drive both must be replaced apparently) then we're keeping more out of the landfill.

Anyway, Philip installed my camera software onto the laptop and now I can move on. I can update my Etsy shop, and just as soon as I recall what my password is for my flickr account I can update that too. It's such a relief. I know, I already said that.

IT'S SUCH A RELIEF!

So I folded six loads of laundry, even though I only washed four yesterday. That's because I had to fold the loads that had been sitting around collecting dust for days before even starting. All I got through were my back log of sheets and towels. I have a lot of raggy towels I use for canning and drying the dog and other fun things like that. The hamper was full of them. Every sheet and comforter cover and towel in the house was in the hamper. So I have a whole extra day of laundry doing to do if I want to be completely caught up. Here's the thing: we have only a family of three and I can never keep up with my own laundry, how the hell do you larger families face such gargantuan piles of it? I know that I am a weak-ass when it comes to laundry so I'm hardly a person whose laundry skills you want to compare yourself to. Laundry has always been my downfall and I'm mostly alright with that.

It doesn't mean I don't keep trying though. I'm an excellent housewife in most ways, but we all have to have our dark areas, right? Except for you perfect people out there. Don't talk to me.

I had a nightmare last night. It was not one of the worst, thank goodness. I don't remember much of it except that there was a very bad man who must have had some keen evil powers because he was monitoring myself and two other women through a television we couldn't turn off. One of the women was pregnant and eating something spinachy. But then we were all three eating something spinachy. Then the bad man was in the room with us and I was hiding. That's all I remember. Spinach-baby-badman. Aren't nightmares fascinating?

Oh wait, and I costumed a bunch of people for some strange event but my old costuming partner Autumn was there and was scoffing at me and my work and it was all very stressful since I apparently have quite the inferiority complex. It was all somehow connected with my mom living in an apartment in the city.

My knee hurts today which is annoying. It's always got to be something, doesn't it? I can't decide if it would be wise to skip the gym today or not. I don't want to hurt my knee more but I need to not lose any momentum with the gym thing. I feel like I should not strain it today, that's what my gut says. At least my burn is scabbed up and healing well. (I hope you're not eating your breakfast right now.)

On the agenda: laundry, pesto making for the freezer, and salsa canning. Which means a trip out to my favorite farm. Which means locating the back road so I can avoid taking Highway 18 on my scooter except for about a quarter mile.

Do you ever think about all the ghosts that walk the highways? I was just suddenly remembering the old lady who died in a violent crash on that same stretch of highway last week. We were on the highway not long after the crash happened and had to take a detour to the farm because of it. Lisa E. and I were both pretty sure we saw fire on the road just before turning off. On our way back we saw the white car that was wrecked in the ditch, smashed like an insignificant pumpkin. What's amazing is that the old man who was driving it lived. But what an awful day. And to make it so far in life with a person, to be old together and then lose one of the pair in such a violent way. I can't help but wonder if the old man hasn't died now too? It's not uncommon for old folks to follow loved ones into the grave not long after being left solo.

It happened to Johnny Cash. When we heard that June had died, Philip and I both said we wouldn't be surprised if he followed her in the near future. Not three months later and he was dead too.

I don't know that I believe in ghosts, in a haunting kind of way. I guess I kind of do. Or at least I believe that spirits linger. Or at least leave some imprint or memory of themselves behind. I've felt them before. Maybe they were actually the spirits themselves, but I tend to think that what I have felt is the residue of their existence. Like a three dimensional photo. Sometimes I get the shivers walking through such imprints. I was just thinking about how many lives are lost on American freeways every single day. It's a phenomenal number. It's eerie to see how many crosses are set up to remember them on the sides of the road. I used to be haunted by those, especially because one of the first ones I saw was to commemorate a girl who went missing (last seen at that spot on the freeway that is marked in Rio Grand California) and (I think) later turned up dead.

So I wonder, if you were to clear all the cars from a stretch of freeway and achieve total silence, could you hear the spirits there? Would they be weeping? Screaming? Sometimes, (and this is one of those instances where it would be totally appropriate to remember that I am a freak), I feel like it's one of my main jobs in life to remember the dead. To speak for the voiceless. I see dead animals on the road, or crosses commemorating human life cut off, and I find myself speaking to them in a kind of mental undertone. Making a note that here was life. Here was the end of something beautiful. Remembered. It can be overwhelming though when in my head I start taking count of all the dead in the world. I write them letters. I send them notes.

My head is like a mailbox for the dead.

I haven't really said these things out loud before. Not in detail. You can totally understand how come one of my most frequent fantasies is to take a ten year vow of complete silence? Anyone who knows me knows that this would be absolutely IMPOSSIBLE. Which is perhaps why it is a particularly compelling fantasy. Isn't it always what is most unreachable that we reach for in our dream world? The flat chested poor girl wants triple D breasts, right? The nerdy guy who can't speak to girls wants to be the next James Bond, am I wrong?

This all reminds me of the music I was listening to while cleaning yesterday. My play list started with "The Buena Vista Social Club" soundtrack, then I listened to "Ziggy Stardust", and finished the event off with Roy Acuff singing one of my favorite all time songs "The Wreck On The Highway" which is all about whiskey and blood running together. It's also religious. Even though I am not religious, I love a lot of religious music. Mahalia Jackson is a favorite, as are the old classical pieces written for the church or in celebration of Jesus like Handel's "Messiah". Another of my favorite songs is "Were You There" by Johnny Cash which is all about being nailed to the cross and being shoved into a cave to die, you know how Jesus was entombed and then rose and all that jazzy jazz? These are very violent songs.

On a side note, I have been a huge Bowie fan since I was 13 years old when my mom insisted that I would love this guy. She bought his latest album "Modern Dance" on a trip we had made to Mill Valley and we listened to it all the way back up to Ashland Oregon where we were living at the time. She told me when he would be appearing on MTV, which was relatively new at the time, and made sure I was up to see it. I totally fell for him and his music was the main soundtrack to my life for years. As I was listening to him yesterday I was amazed at just how many of his lyrics are completely loony. Yet I totally get them as do so many people. He evokes a feeling, he communicates something with drug addled words that somehow makes sense. How does he do that?

"You're squawking like a pink monkey bird" can only come from either a crazy person, or a crazy person on drugs. We know the answer to that one by now. It kept making me laugh, hearing these lyrics that I took so seriously when I was younger. His was a voice that spoke my language. Yet, I had never been exposed to, and would be surprised at being exposed to a pink monkey bird even now. I'm going to look that up...

Yeah, I think Bowie made that one up.

I will leave you with this sage piece of advice gleaned from the Ziggy Stardust album:

"Don't let the milk float ride your mind."

That's what I always say.

Stumptown And Potatoes

Portland is called many things: PDX, The City Of Roses, and Stump Town.

STUMP TOWN?

I realize this is probably a reference to it's logging connections...but what it makes me think of is a city full of amputees. Every time I hear that name I see armless and legless people struggling to navigate city life with no limbs. A city as cool as Portland could, indeed, be filled with as many amputees as would enjoy living there and I still would refuse to call it by that name. It's blunt, inelegant, chopped, foreshortened, whacked, short, hefty, and completely retarded.

I'm sorry, I have had the barely controllable urge to use that word lately. I think because it's so completely socially incorrect to do so which makes it kind of more attractive. I am not using it in reference to a person though, so surely no one can object?

So let me ask you, (especially YOU Anonymous*), if you were interviewing a potato farmer who uses "conventional" farming methods (meaning pesticides) and they explained to you the complicated regimen of spraying they used before, and during the growing season...sprays so toxic that the farmhands must stay off the fields for at least five days...and you asked that farmer if he and his family felt comfortable eating those potatoes and that farmer told you he doesn't let his family eat the potatoes he grows for commerce but has a separate ORGANIC garden for his own family...what would you think? Would you feel comfortable eating potatoes grown in such a way that the farmer himself won't let his family touch them?

You know, when one refers to pesticides, it covers a wide range of compounds. I have to say I don't actually think all pesticides are evil. I have used Neem and BT in my own garden and felt totally comfortable using them when I felt it was really necessary. Although, most years in my garden I don't use a single spray, whether considered safe or not. However, I think most pesticides are damaging to the environment when used commercially because they use such huge quantities of it for the duration of the growing season. It's not a secret that a lot of beneficial insects are being killed because of this. We need those bugs. We need the bees. We need the worms. We need the flies, believe it or not. We need the spiders.

I don't buy strictly organic. I'm not an organic Nazi. I think it's always the better choice if you can get it, or afford it, but I am perfectly happy buying produce from farms that use natural plant based pesticides only when necessary. A lot of smaller farms that aren't certified organic are practicing mostly organic methods of growing. I will always buy from a local small farm that uses only some sprays than buy from any huge commercial farm whether organic or not.

However, this week was the first time in three years that I have bought potatoes that aren't organic. They are one of the most heavily treated vegetables and the most likely to contain traces of the chemicals used (according to some of the farmers that grow them. Read Michael Pollan's book "The Botany Of Desire" to read his interviews with both organic and conventional potato farmers). I plan to find out who exactly grows Farmer John's potatoes and ask that grower directly how they grown them.

This reminds me about GMO's. This is a question everyone should be asking too. I admit I'm afraid to ask my favorite farm (Bernard's) if they use any patented genetically modified seeds. Unlike the issue of organic versus conventional, I do truly believe that GMOs are something everyone should ban from their diets. Refuse to buy them. Demand labeling. I don't know what the environmental impact could potentially be, and neither do the companies that make them. That is unconscionable. Why doesn't that concern more people? We should not be spreading them around the world until they have been studied for years in very contained areas. Yet they are already everywhere.

Remember when DDT was first introduced? (In 1939 in case you were wondering.) Obviously I don't personally remember this. What I do know is that people thought it was a miracle and people thought it was totally safe. We used it widely until the 1970's when it was banned. Why was it banned? BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT YOU DO WITH PURE EVIL. OK, seriously, I was just reading a report about it here. My point is that everyone was willing to believe it was a miracle and it had to accumulate in people's bodies, kill off lots of birds, and contaminate fish before they would believe it wasn't such a great idea.

You know what's scary? DDT doesn't really go away. It's still in all the bodies it has contaminated. It flows from mother to child through breast milk. It isn't water soluble. It accumulates in our bodies. We are still polluted with it years after it's been banned. And we sold one of our last factories to Indonesia where DDT is still being made and used, so we've spread the goodness around for everyone.

I don't claim to be an expert on GMOs or pesticides. But there is evidence everywhere that all of these compounds and modified plants are hurting our environment and through our environment, ourselves. Why is it so hard to convince people to care?

You know how we have so much cancer in the world? You know how so many people are suffering from new and resistant diseases and how there are more and more infertile people in our country? You know how everyone is raising their fists to the skies and crying out "Why is this happening?! How can this be?!" I'm not one of them. It is so obvious why so many people are infertile. Why so many people are getting cancer. Why so many species are just vanishing faster than we can study them. Why we have so little clean water. Why the bees are dying. The answers are right in front of us. The answers are in our pocketbooks, our banks, our homes. The answers are everywhere. There's no mystery why there are so many of these problems, and there's no mystery who's responsible.

I care passionately about these issues. Obviously. I want us all to be able to have children if we want them (but not four or five...that's another environmental issue**). I want all of us to be able to grow old without getting cancer. I want all of our children to benefit from fresh air and clean water. How can anyone not want these things?

Dammit, how come I don't have superpowers? I would only use them for good, I promise. I know you're all tired of pesticide talk. I often wish I could just deal with these problems by myself. It's an inconvenience to have to try to get everyone worked up over these issues that affect us all. Those of you who don't care already will care down the road when the proof becomes tragically irrefutable. Of course, most of my friends and acquaintances DO care about these issues as much or more than myself. So if everyone reading this is already in the same camp with me, tell me what I can do to help other people see why they should demand better for themselves and our environment? What can I do to help besides making changes in my own habits and choices?

Today we are going to Portland. Philip and Max are getting together with our friend Clinton to play in the fountains at a park in the Pearl District, and my mom and I are going to visit the rose test garden which is one of the largest in the country.

*If you're a friend of mine giving me a tease, all I can say is: you asked for it.

**It is not my personal wish that people keep their families smaller. Over-population is a very real environmental concern. I mention it because it will only become more of an issue over time. I think it's heart breaking that so many couples who want kids aren't able to have any, but I also think those people lucky enough to be fertile need to think carefully about the impact the number of children they have might have on all of our resources. I know someone out there will still want to string me up for mentioning that. No one's ever supposed to say that stuff out loud.

37 half pints+10 pints= 5 cranky kids
(I am surprisingly good at math)

On Tuesday of this week I went to pick silvanberries with the two Lisas and all of our children combined (six for the picking and then Maddy went to play with a friend so we had five for the canning). We went to the Efimov berry farm near Woodburn. I would have written about this earlier in the week but I promised myself I would first write an article to submit to my local paper. An exercise in restraint and humility. I don't actually think my local paper prints free-lance articles but the writer for the home and garden section did say she's interested in covering more on canning and preserving and would like to talk to me next week. That's pretty cool.

So now that they've declined publishing my slightly more conservative article (isn't it weird how the newspaper never prints swear words even in editorial pieces?)* I am free to tell you all about our day of berry picking and canning. In spite of the fact that I find large numbers of little people pretty stressful, I had a lot of fun and said little people only required periodical refereeing. They were cute little buttons picking berries and smooshing them all over their pretty faces and dresses. I have to say that I'm very fond of all of these little people. Even the bigger more tidy ones who aren't pictured above. (Maddy, Rex, and Max).

It took us at least two hours to pick thirty five pounds of silvanberries. Did I not already tell you about these berries? Oh my. They are so delicious! The charming Ana Efimov (who dresses in modest clothes and a headscarf that make her look like a Russian immigrant from the turn of the century, you know I almost fainted with excitement! Uh, I should mention here that she doesn't do it for the fashion, but for religious reasons.) isn't even positive what was crossed to produce silvanberries. She thinks it may be a blackberry/tayberry cross. They are huge, juicy (so very delicate when ripe) and have a flavor that captures the musky wildness of a blackberry with the tang and zip of a raspberry. I'm in love with this berry.

When children pick berries with you you have to pick through the berries later (when they're not looking) to remove all the moldy ones. The most helpful child is not as discerning as us seasoned adults. This work that you see here is messy. We milled the berries to remove most of the seeds and then cooked them down with sugar to make jam.

We cooked each batch for forty minutes. I'm still not sure if we ended up with mostly sauce or if it all set up. It's difficult to know until a couple of days later. In either case, it will be delicious! It's really quite fun to be so industrious with people you love spending time with. Way better than a party in my opinion.

The rewards of canning are so tangible. I love tangible rewards. We watched the lines of jars multiply into the night. We didn't finish the last batch until almost nine pm. The kids were getting quite cranky. Well, mine especially.

I am going to list a few good reasons to can or otherwise preserve your own foods:

• Because it's FUN!!! (many more serious and grown up reasons to follow)

• At a time when I often feel powerless about the things going on in the world, canning gives me a feeling of control. It makes me feel like I'm productive, capable, independent (if all trucking stops, I'll still be able to put produce up for the winter), and it connects me with the past as well which makes me feel a sense of continuity and flow.
  

• Food preserving is a skill and a science that has been practiced for thousands of years. By learning to do it and teaching others to do it too, we are all preserving extremely important skills. It used to be that everyone knew how to do it. If we all just let corporations make and preserve our food for us we lose a lot of knowledge that is pretty fundamental. Food preserving is a life skill. Like building shelter. Like clothing ourselves. Civilization would not have been able to industrialize without people having learned to preserve food against lean times and long voyages. This isn't a cute little old granny skill (though many cute grannies have kept the torch lit for us).
  

• You have more control over the quality of the food you feed your family. In the USDA booklet on canning they say that the quality of properly home canned food is higher and the nutritional value often greater than most store bought canned goods. When you select the fruits and vegetables to be canned yourself you can make sure you don't use old, bruised, or unripe foods.

• Canning or preserving foods that you have either grown yourself or bought from local farms means that the food you are putting up has used a minimum of gas to be produced. The less miles your food has to travel to get to you, the better it is for all of us. Canning your own food is green in more than just one way though. As I will point out.

• Buying food to put up from local sources means that you can find out who uses pesticides and make choices about what you put on your family's table. A lot of small farmers are responding to consumers wishes to have less toxic pesticides used on food, many are not using chemicals at all even if they don't have an official organic certification. When you buy from a local farmer you can know who is growing your food and what practices they use because you can ask them in person. It is empowering to know the person who grows the food that feeds your family.

• Buying produce from local sources to put up for the winter also supports your local economy, and when a local economy is being well supported by its people, it grows stronger and healthier which helps it withstand the influences of the greater global economy which we have a lot less control over. Buying locally is both a green choice and a political choice.

• When you produce your own canned goods you reduce packaging waste. Generally speaking, most canners use glass canning jars which can be used again and again for many years to come. You can't reuse the cans from the supermarket and the jars from the supermarket are not made for repeated use and so aren't as reliably shatter proof. Although you have to use plastics for freezing, the home canner uses a lot less packaging than commercially made food. So canning is a great way to be more green.

• Plus, did I mention how FUN it is?!

*Yah, I know. It's not weird at all. I was being sarcastic. Wasn't that obvious? Am I losing my edge already by trying to write for the masses?

Note: I don't have a lot of local readers that I know of, but if you are local and you want to pick some silvanberries, you can do it now but you have to move fast because they're almost done for the year. You can call the Efimov farm at: 503-634-2813 for directions and information. Their address is: 34885 S. Barlow Road, Woodburn Oregon. The Efimovs also grow boysenberries and marionberries. All of these berries will be available for the next week but probably not long after that.

The Story Of Four Two Cherry Pickers

We picked about thirty pounds of cherries from Egger's Acres yesterday. And when I say "we" I mean Lisa E. and I. Not our shiny blond boys.

Unpaid Review: unlike the useless specimen of an instrument I bought last year to cut corn kernels off the cob, this cherry stoner, made by VillaWare turned out to be a great buy. It was only $19.99 and although it doesn't feel particularly solidly made, it worked really well. I have always thought that making cherry pies sounds seriously tedious if you have to pit them with a paring knife; with this well designed tool I can pit a ton of cherries in just a few minutes.*

It kind of makes me wish I had planted more sour cherry trees. Oh, wait, there are other reasons for that too, as we shall see.

These boys have a fleeting interest in canning equipment. But only because it makes a satisfying thunking noise and spits the cherries out right into the bowl. All boys like flying fruit.

Philip was set to the task of de-stemming the Bings. He did this with amazing grace.

Untreated cherries for drying.

Cherry soup. I am attempting to make sweet cherry preserves but just as I suspected, sweet cherries don't make great preserves. I cooked one batch according to instructions from The Ball Blue Book of canning and preserving and what I got (which I won't bother canning) is a stewed fruit concoction that tastes like hot sugar. No cherry flavor. Gross. So for the three other batches I decided to let the fruit macerate overnight in the sugar. No added water. I will only heat it up long enough to get it hot enough to safely can. Hopefully this will help preserve the cherry flavor. I would like to use this cherry sauce to put on yogurt and maybe ice cream.


We went to Egger's Acres in Dundee to pick Bing cherries and sour cherries. I couldn't pick as many sour cherries as I would have liked because they are quite high up in the two trees that had them and the trees were on slopes making the possibility of a ladder seem like a pretty dangerous prospect. The trees were absolutely laden with dark Bings and I have to say that they taste a lot better than any I have so far eaten from the super market or the farmer's market.

I would have climbed the trees if it weren't for two factors: Mr. Egger (the proprietor) is the kind of guy you don't want to piss off, and the tree branches were populated by quite a lot of intimidating bugs.

You'd think it would be a boy's dream to run around on a farm in the summertime. Right? There's lots of dust and dirt and fruit to smash (or pick and eat) and acres of trees, lanes, bugs, and more dirt. The great outdoors! Boys love it, right? Well, maybe your boys do. Our boys prefer to play legos in the civilized interior of their own homes. Our boys prefer video games, movies, or sister torturing. The "great outdoors" holds no allure for them. Lisa and I find this incredible because we couldn't be happier getting dusty, picking fruit, taking in lung fulls of fresh air. This is the kind of thing we loved when we were kids, so what the hell is wrong with our kids?

They came on this whole cherry picking mission reluctantly in the first place. It started off with about a hundred truculent threats about what we better do to make it fun for them. But I should mention that in the beginning, it was mostly my own sweet bairn who was throwing his bad attitude around the car like ten pound weights at my head. I'm not proud of his behavior. In fact, I may have raised my voice a bit in the car about several hundred times before we even reached Lafayette. It just got better from there on out.

So what do you do when you have two boys bickering with each other non-stop and deciding to be absolutely miserable and bored. Bored. BORED! All this time I've been worried about raising a criminal and I didn't even see this danger coming- that I might be raising a bored person. I don't understand boredom. I've never experienced boredom the way other people do. Maybe I've had a couple of bored moments in my life, but fleeting experiences. What the hell do you do with people who don't know how to entertain themselves?

We kept trying to ignore them. Ever noticed how hard it is to ignore a child who is determined to have your undivided attention? You can't win. We grumbled to each other and had conversations about what the hell is wrong with our boys as though they weren't standing there telling us how bored they were. And getting more bored by the minute. These bored little being were like matches in the sun, getting hotter and hotter, ready to combust. I'm not proud to say it, but I kind of wanted to snap a branch or two at them. At least it would give them something real to complain about.

Right near the end, right when I had pulled back a tight branch ready to launch it at whichever boy came near me next, the complaints changed. Suddenly they had to pee. When boys who've been crying a river of boredom have to pee, it is sudden and urgent. So I took them off to knock at the farmer's door to find out if there was a near by outhouse they could use. We found Mr. Egger in his yard and I asked. He told us there wasn't a bathroom but why don't they just pee on a tree around the corner?

It's like the earth stopped spinning. Those boys looked at each other with the kind of delight usually reserved for a new set of legos.

So here's a practical tip for you should you find yourself with uncooperative boys in a beautiful rural landscape which you are unable to enjoy for their stubborn refusal to run off and play:

Send them off to pee on a tree together!

Men love to piss outside. Boys are no different than men in this regard. Pissing contests aren't just a macho test of manhood, pissing contests are something that the male species enjoys for the FUN of it.

Two boys pissing on a tree...suddenly they are the best of friends and playing dragons off in the distance forgetting all about us. Suddenly they are the rugged little boys we know they are at heart. Scrounging in the dirt for nature's interesting artifacts.

So the next time we take them with us on a farm excursion, I think the first thing we'll do is have them run off and pee somewhere together. Do you think other farmers will mind?

*Hey VillaWare people, feel free to pay me for this review. Don't worry, I don't have principles.

Cherry Season!

On the east coast and in the Midwest sour cherries are not very hard to find (from what I hear), but here on the west coast they are like rare birds who can't fly and are therefore dying off because it's evolutionarily less useful to have wings that don't work. I guess no one sees the point of growing sour cherries because you have to preserve them or cook them in pies to get the best out of them and who has time for that? You'd think, what with Washington state dripping with cherries it wouldn't be that hard to track some down.

You'd think.

When I lived in Sonoma I went on a mad sour cherry hunt. I actually tried to find mail order sources here on the west coast as I have heard there are on the east coast. No luck. I tried every local farm to find out if they had a Morello tree hidden on their back acre that I could pick from. No dice. Even though the west county in Somoma used to be full of cherry orchards. This was long before it was all vineyards and long before it was all apples which were mostly chopped down to make way for the grapes. Now there is almost no evidence that they once dominated the agricultural landscape. I heard about it from old farmers.

There are lots of cherries here in Yamhill county. Cherries everywhere! This is something you never see in California. Roadside cherries. Cherries in front yards. However, they are all sweet.

Lisa E. has begun a new hunt for cherries. It seems she's found a possible source here in Yamhill County. On Sunday we are going cherry picking. Of course we're going to pick sweet cherries. But besides eating them there isn't a lot you can do with the sweet ones. They lose their flavor when cooked and doused in sugar so pies, preserves, and other deserts don't shine with the sweet cherries.* Here's what we'll do with the sweet ones: we'll eat a ton of them fresh, we'll try oven drying some and dehydrator drying some others (to make a quality comparison), and we might make a little ice cream. We might even try making one of the recipes for preserves made with sweet cherries just to see how it turns out.

At this same orchard there is a sour cherry tree, but the owner has informed Lisa that the cherries on it are very small. We're bringing her cherry pitter to see how easily they pit. If they pit easily we will pick sour cherries and make sour cherry jam because it's one of the best jams on earth to those of us who like our jam with a little tartness. My all time favorite is made by the company Bon Maman. Philip bought it once a long time ago and since I don't like to try new things very freely, he had to convince me that it wouldn't kill me to take a taste. You see, I had only ever had cherry deserts and preserves made from sweet cherries which basically just taste like cooked sugar. Oh boy! I am so glad he made me try it. It tasted like cherry candy, the kind that is bright red and made with artificial flavorings...except that it was a gorgeous deep red and 100% natural.

I seem to have developed a habit of planting sour cherry trees wherever I live. I planted two at my last house and two at this house. I keep thinking that it isn't enough. Morello trees are quite small naturally. What if I never get enough from them? I'm not as sure about the Montmorency trees which is the other variety I planted. I kind of think I ought to plant at least one more. Another thing you can do with sour cherries (better than with sweet) is make liqueur. I haven't had tons of luck making good liqueurs but once you've tasted a really good one it's hard not to want to keep trying.

I've made an excellent plum liqueur and my friend Sharon has made an excellent cherry liqueur. I have to note that she used sweet cherries but didn't use as much sugar as cherry liqueur usually calls for and it turned out excellent-but she didn't write down what she did so it will remain a mystery forever.

The bowl of cherries above is this years Morello harvest from the front yard. Not a lot you can do with a tiny bowl of sour cherries except look at them and dream about what you'll do with them next year when you have enough of them.

So cherries are going to kick off our farm and preserving adventures for the season. I'm so excited! Now I have to start looking for an extra freezer. I needed one last year but didn't get one. I've needed one for a few years but have not wanted to make a rash choice. I don't know whether I should just get an extra fridge/freezer combo-but then I probably still wouldn't have enough freezer space, or get an upright freezer, or get one of those chest freezers? Which is best? The upright seems the easiest to find things in. The chest freezers are cheaper. There's all this talk of frost-which ones are frost free? Anyone have suggestions?

The one thing I know for sure is that I'm getting one with a low energy star rating which means I won't be buying locally unless my Sears can order a low energy Kenmore. Around here the only ones I've seen in person are the ones that eat up the most energy possible-are we trying to use up all the fossil fuel right now on purpose? Please! On line I've seen a lot of models that are very efficient compared to what I've seen around here.

For anyone else wondering what to do with a surplus of local cherries, here's a list:

dry them (sweet)
pit and then freeze them (sweet or sour)
preserves (best for sour)
ice cream (sweet)
syrup (sour)
liqueur (sweet or sour)
sauce to put over ice cream or other deserts (sour)

*This is my opinion possibly not shared by anyone else. That's alright, I'm used to it.

Righteous Affection Or Sicko Love?

(plus an excellent spring soup recipe)

No one talks about it much. Not even on "foodie"* blogs; the fact that some of us could look at a bunch of radishes all day long. Or the fact that some of us wish we were planning a wedding so we could insist that the bride carry a radish bouquet. Or the fact that our picture files are filled with produce tableaux and it isn't even our own produce all the time, which would be completely warranted from the pride angle. So is this love of produce an innocuous small joy in life or a deep seated disturbance of the psychie that could prove to be dangerous?

I don't even like radishes. I thought about growing them because they're so pretty. See what I mean? Isn't that just a little bit off? There is one soup I love to make that calls for a bunch of radishes and their greens. This was my excuse to buy this gorgeous bridal bunch of radishes that stole my heart at the farmer's market.

The farmer's market opened here in McMinnville for the first time this season yesterday. Have I mentioned how much I love to shop at farmer's markets? I really don't understand anyone who prefers the grocery store. Maybe it reaches out to my hippie roots and tugs the ol heartstrings, but I think that's not it because I'm pretty sure I don't have any of those. I love the open air of it (although I could do without the skin boiling sun) and the festive feeling it brings to a town. I love meeting the people who grow the food I photograph and look at for hours on end, even when they are surly farmer women who look like they might implode at any moment. (I will not disclose who the surly woman was, but I am not kidding, I was scared.)

There is a woman at our farmer's market named Kate Parker who has a business called Katula Herbs LLC who sells quite a few medicinal herbs. My mom bought some great additions to our medicinal herb garden: arnica, angelica, and valerian. She also bought some French sorrel and lovage. Kate says that she sells so little of the medicinal herbs that she is beginning to phase them out. PHASE THEM OUT? See, this is why all of us (that means you too) need to start growing medicinals. What if they become so scarce that the average person can't even find them anymore? And what if the average person finds they need them because processed medicine becomes too expensive?

One must remember to get off the soap box every once in a while. I am growing them. I will keep them seeding and rooting and thriving and some day when everyone is scrambling to get themselves a little arnica I will feather my nest with the hundred dollar bills I will charge everyone for each little plant as a mean punishment for having let them all become so scarce.

Seriously though, it scares me that it is becoming harder and harder to find medicinal herbs. From an environmental stand point they are important to the bugs that are important to us and are therefore quite important to us. I don't blame Kate though, she has a business to run and if no one is buying the medicinals, there's no point in wasting space in her booth.

But back to the radishes. These came from a farm that is actually two farms: Figment Farm and Summer Harvest. These are two ladies who have joined forces because singly they didn't have as much to offer but together their farm is nearly an acre. Last year I didn't buy anything from them because their produce is quite expensive but yesterday I fell in love with those radishes and I love them so much that I can't remember what I paid for them but it really wasn't much and they are the single most beautiful radishes I have ever seen. Plus the ladies who run the two farms are really charming (and annoyingly fit and lovely too) and I had such a pleasant time buying their lettuce for $1.75 a head which is actually cheaper than lettuce has been in the stores. It also looked infinitely nicer.

I also stopped by Oakhill Organics and bought more lettuce. I've been craving greens and have been so disappointed by the expensive, tough, bitter greens I've been finding at the health food and giant conglomerate stores. Oakhill has the most tender looking lettuce mix I have ever seen. I plan to try it out with lentil salad today.

Now I would like to share the recipe I use for a French spring garden soup in which radishes are used to great purpose:

My version of Garden Potage

1 head any tender lettuce
2 carrots
1 bunch radishes with leaves intact
4 or 5 new potatoes, unpeeled
1 bunch green onions including tender portions of green tops
1 Tbsp butter
1 Tbsp olive oil
2 cups water, or vegetable broth
1/4 cup parsley
1 tsp salt, or to taste
freshly ground pepper to taste

Coarsely chop all the vegetables. In a soup pot, over medium heat, melt the butter and add the olive oil and when the butter begins to foam, add the vegetables. (I'm pretty sure the earth will not open if you add the vegetables before the butter foams, in case you're worried.) Cook the vegetables with the lid on for a few minutes (no more than five, and be sure to stir them occasionally to prevent sticking). Then lower the heat and continue to cook for another five minutes.

When the vegetables have softened and the greens wilted, add the water or broth, parsley, and the salt. Cover and continue to cook over low heat for fifteen minutes. (To be honest, I think I actually usually cook it on a medium heat.) Make sure you continue to stir the soup.

Puree the crap out of it.** This is a smooth light soup. The original recipe suggests that you can add rice or pasta to it prior to pureeing it. I have never done so because I like that this soup feels so clean and besides, it already has the potatoes for starch. But whatever, add rice or pasta if you want.

*I dislike this word. Please don't ever describe me as foodie or as a drinkie.

**Use whatever appliance you prefer for the job, just don't hurt yourself. I prefer using my immersion blender which my friend Chelsea had to beg me to buy for two years before I listened to her. If you don't have one yet do I need to come over to your house and beat you over the head?