Puttin’ Up

Canning serves a few purposes for me.

1. I love cooking. I read cookbooks like a lonely woman reading romance novels. I’m a self-proclaimed “foodie”. Jams, chutneys, sauces, pickles and other can-able recipes are super easy and I can geek out on the endless flavor combinations.

2. I like participating in an age-old, frugal and industrious tradition. I feel like, in some way, I’m honoring and connecting with the women who lived in this house before me. I’m pretty sure they canned too.

3. I’m preparing for the Zombie Apocalypse.

Just kidding.

Well, maybe….

I do think it’s smart and necessary to be prepared. Because shit does hit the fan. I’m not a big believer in a sudden fiery apocalyptic end of the world. But, I do believe in natural and unnatural disasters. And I do see how fragile, susceptible and inter-connected we all are. (Hell, I live in a flood plain!) A blizzard could knock out power.  Drought could knock out crops. Earthquakes could knock out Los Angeles and the major roads that bring food to our grocery stores. And whether or not global warming is due to human activity- I don’t really give a flying fig- it’s getting warmer and things are a changin’. As humans, we have to adapt. And adapting is easier when you are prepared.

I also believe the farther we are away from the source of things in our lives- the source of our food, the source of our water, the source of everything we have and use to live life, the more dependent and vulnerable we are. Especially when it comes to food- the more we know how food is grown, harvested and ways in which we can preserve it, the more self-relient we truly are. Come hell or high water (the latter is quite possible), my aim is to be prepared.

I readily admit, most of what I have canned so far is rather unnecessary- 15 jars of blueberry basil jam won’t save my family when we are in a bad spot- I’ve been just taking what I can get from the farmer’s market and preserving it mainly so I can simply learn how to can.

Here are a few of my canning projects as of late:

Rhubarb Chutney, Pickled Watermelon Rind and Blueberry Basil Jam

Standard Pickles.

So, yes, learning to can and canning is a way for me to prepare, like those kooky doomsday preppers. I’m puttin’ up for when shit hits the fan.

Or, perhaps more importantly, when I want a freakin’ peach in the middle of February.

Slow Down

People drive really fast by our house. The posted speed is 35 MPH, but some drivers think that 35 actually means 95 or that speed limits just doesn’t apply to them.

Not only is it stupid dangerous, tons of animals are killed on the roads around here. My dogs are not the brightest of creatures and Lucky has been found on the road by a few people- including a Highway Patrol officer. I do my very best to ensure that they stay in the yard, but the little buggers will escape once in a while and I’d rather not see them as roadkill anytime soon. More than anything, I’d like to let my kids play in the front yard without the danger of some speeding asshat careening into my yard.

I’m thinking of putting up a sign on the road to get people to slow down. After searching around on google images, I found these gems:

 

 

Rogue Cows

Today was a good day.

Anytime I say those words, I fondly think of Ice Cube…Today I didn’t even have to use my A.K…. 
I got to say it was a good day….Perhaps I should alter that to say Today I didn’t even have to use my rifle to shoot a mountain lion…but that doesn’t quite work and I digress…

My 4 year old and 6 year old were at their summer-camp-school-daycare-deal so I can actually get work done. My littlest was home with me in a chipper and jovial mood. He didn’t hit me with a toy because he wanted to see what I’d do or throw a major tantrum over a banana, so that’s good. He was all about the books- mainly ones with animals so he could name the ones he knows and loves- chickens (to which he follows up with “EGG!”), sheep (which he calls “baaaaa”), dog, cats, cows (unconditionally followed with a “moooo!” and a jaunt to the window to point them out across the street, or in the pasture behind our house, or really anywhere from any window there is bound to be a cow in sight).

Speaking of cows! There was a major traffic jam in front of the house today. Not from a 2 car motorist accident, not from too many people coming home from work at the same time, not from a live grenade on the side of the freeway (yes, that happened on the 5 when we lived in Orange County). No, it was due to 4 rogue cows.

The cows congregate in the stream that runs by our house and that stream flows further down through their ranch land across the street- to drink, to bathe, to gossip by the water cooler, etc. They apparently found the pasture greener on the other side of the fence and made a run (a trot?) for it. Then, wouldn’t you know, we have 4 cows cruising down the highway stopping traffic and giving the tourists (and newbie country girls like myself) something to talk about. I called up the ranch owner and let him know that he had a couple wandering cows and he said he’d be right there.

In the meantime, traffic was backing up and J (the man whose horses are in our pasture) happened to drive by. He’s a Man Who Knows What To Do type guy, so he herded the cows up the highway and grabbed a tool from his truck to unhook the barbed wire and get the cows back into the pasture. Then, a Man Who Doesn’t Know What to Do But Thinks He Does, got out of his car and was “shooing” the cows and basically cornering them. J, The Man Who Knows What To Do, hollered at him to stop. He didn’t and the cows went apeshit. They panicked and jumped through the barbed wire.  The first cow got caught up in the wire, screamed (how else to explain the sound?) and struggled. It was terrible. Thankfully, the cow broke free and ran into the pasture. The other 3 cows followed the leader and charged through the barbed wire, but somehow made it through unscathed.

J got back in his truck and without an under-his-breath mutter of “That dumb-ass should have stayed in his goddamn truck” (which is what I would have said had I been him), drove away and politely thanked me, for doing basically nothing but standing there (which was the best course of action now that I think about it).

One can laugh at what goes for drama and excitement in my podunk town, but I’d take a couple havoc-wrecking cows over a drive-by any day, thank you very much.

Ranch Sights

A tiny bird’s nest in our apple tree.

Note to self: Don’t drink the water in the creek that runs by our house. Apparently, it’s a bovine bathhouse.

It’s hay season around here. So much so that my neighbor referred to herself as a “Hay Widow”.

Golden Fields of Hay.

Fresh Trout

A day at Jackson Meadows…

gave us this…

Fresh-caught, grilled trout on salad greens, a backyard-chicken poached egg with a Mason-Jar shaken lemon dill vinaigrette.

It was a stunningly delicious way to end the day….

Especially when the kids were on a bender of fighting and bickering at the lake. I’ll never understand how all three can wage war with one another when surrounded by such peace and beauty….I know they are exhibiting irrational (yet normal) kid behavior, but good lord, here we sat in pure natural majesty and they were fighting over watermelon.

Sheesh.

Canning

I recently participated in an age old tradition- canning. It’s been my foodie dream for quite a while to “put up” some seasonal fruits and veggies. I could never bring myself to doing it down south. It just didn’t feel very authentic, I guess…or perhaps I needed to set the scene by actually living in the country. Silly, I know.

Canning, like baking, is a precise art. Alas, I suck at baking (and having to be gluten-free, I have no patience for mixing 9000 different flours and unlocking the secrets of xantham gum). I’m more of a throw a little of this and a little of that into the mix- more of a cook than a baker. But, I think with anything, the more you do it, the more knowledge you have about where you can take some artistic license. I’ll get there, but for now, I’ll stick to the recipe- don’t want to give anyone a jar full of botulism and what not….

Our friend dropped by some lovely rhubarb from his garden and I had some organic strawberries on hand, so I took my first great leap into canning with an easy strawberry-rhubarb jam.

Basically, you clean your canning jars and stick them in the water-bath canner and let the water simmer while you make the jam, jelly, sauce, chutney or whatever. Then you take the piping hot jars and put in your concoction, screw a warmed lid on it and boil it in the canning pot for the specified amount of time. Carefully, pull the jars out and let them cool overnight. The lids will make a quirky little pop while cooling and everything sets overnight.

I had been reading up on canning for quite some time and it made me nervous. What is foam? How do I skim it? Will the heat kill the flavor of the recipe? More importantly, will the heat kill the bacteria that seeks to kill me? In the end, the actual process was pretty easy and straightforward (and safe). The jam came out good- it set properly, but is FREAKING sweet…but the right amount of sugar is necessary for the pectin to do it’s thing. I prefer more complex, sweet and savory flavors, so I bought a brand of pectin that allows for less sugar. With the remainder of the rhubarb, I’ll try doing straight rhubarb jam and adding some herbs (mint, thyme?). Or perhaps I’ll make a chutney- a chutney is a always a lovely balance of sweet, savory and a hint of sour.

In my inherent geeky foodie-ness, I dug through my Flavor Bible and came up with some interesting flavor combinations to try once I get my canning foundations down…

Blueberry+lemon-thyme

Pumpkin+balsamic+honey

Carrot+cumin+orange

Blackberry+ginger+peaches

Pears+vanilla+bourbon

Sounds good, no?

Let’s just say I’m bringing sexy back to canning.

Ligers

They do exist. We saw one at Reno’s Sierra Safari Zoo. I couldn’t get a good picture of her, dammit. Sorry.

And yes, it’s pretty much my favorite animal.

 

Fireworks and Parades

4th of July was a pretty mellow day for us.

We attended an early 4th of July celebration in a Portola last Saturday…lake swimming at the Mill Pond, beer, BBQ, country karaoke, civil war reenactment (what a peculiar and interesting sight it was to see civil war soldiers mingling amongst the 4th of July revelers) and fireworks.

When we lived in the ‘burbs of Orange County we attended a 4th of July celebration in Ladera Ranch, where we lived for a year. While it was fun, it was completely over the top. They had a enormous, corporate-sponsored stage (large enough to hold a bloody Rolling Stones concert), 3 or 4 live bands, a professional MC and the fireworks display…whoa nelly…it was HUGE and intricately choreographed. All bells and whistles included. It rivaled Disneyland’s nightly fireworks. While impressive, I much preferred Portola’s Mill Pond fireworks experience-on a lake surrounded by trees, hearing music from a modest PA that played a scratchy John Sousa Phillips march and John Denver’s “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” with belly full of beer and BBQ.

It’s hard to describe the difference…but it seems to lie in intention. The Ladera Ranch 4th was all about putting on a impressive show. Like driving a fancy car to impress strangers (a rampant hobby in Ladera). It was a “keeping up with the Joneses” type experience. Up here, there’s no aim to impress, only an aim to have a damn good time.

Alright, enough of my petty comparisons…

On the morning of the 4th, I took the kids to a parade in another nearby town called Loyalton. It was idyllic- a genuine, small, hometown parade.  It lasted all but 10 minutes and everyone knew everyone in the parade and attending the parade. Our neighbors drove their logging truck and the kids looked like they saw movie stars- (“WE KNOW THEM!!!!”) The parade participants passed out American flags (one bearing “Made In China” which was met with great disdain by the rancher next to me and I internally noted the irony) and threw candy from the firetrucks, tractors, old cars and wagons. The kids dashed about picking up the loot. (“We never got candy at a parade before Mom! AWESOME!!!”) As  a bonus, since the parade route was short, the parade circled back through and we got to hoot and holler all over again. It was pretty awesome.

Just like so many things around here, this 4th of July parade was genuine and heart-felt.

Dog

Where’s Ella?