Sweet. The next stage in the genesis of the urban homesteading HHMM has arrived... We have looked forward to the day when we would add animal husbandry to our list of responsibilities for a long time. For me, this is a big new shift. Normally, I have been in the business of bringing critters to a sudden and untimely end, so that they will end up in our freezers and on our plates. Now I need to help Em raise and nurture these little guys. Of course my hungry belly is involved - I can't wait for delicious fresh eggs. And we'll see... I sure like the idea of homegrown poultry too... but for now, I sure think these little buggers are a heck of a lot of fun, and it is going to be really cool to watch them grow!
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Chicks!
Sweet. The next stage in the genesis of the urban homesteading HHMM has arrived... We have looked forward to the day when we would add animal husbandry to our list of responsibilities for a long time. For me, this is a big new shift. Normally, I have been in the business of bringing critters to a sudden and untimely end, so that they will end up in our freezers and on our plates. Now I need to help Em raise and nurture these little guys. Of course my hungry belly is involved - I can't wait for delicious fresh eggs. And we'll see... I sure like the idea of homegrown poultry too... but for now, I sure think these little buggers are a heck of a lot of fun, and it is going to be really cool to watch them grow!
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Sausage + Fest = Charcuterie
We have piled up the protein bounties of the canyons, waterways, forests, prairies, and mountains in our freezers over the last several years. Packages of neck roast, duck breast, and shank meat have been knocked aside in our search for that last package of backstrap during grilling season, literally falling through the cracks and drifting towards the bottom of a disorganized heap of wild nutrients. If each of these packages of meat had a consciousness, they would wonder what they had done wrong such that they wouldn't fulfill their preconceived notion of a destiny - pot roast, kabobs, osso buco. Little do they know they are destined for perhaps the most exotic and refined of all meat preparations... SAUSAGE FEST!!!!
Perhaps it isn't surprising to other people that the sex ratio of sausage festivities tends to be skewed towards males, but I ask... why is this? Is it hour after hour of up-to-your-elbows stirring of ground meat and fat? Is it the over consumption of heavily salted and seasoned meats, to "make sure the recipe is right?" The guzzling of craft beer resulting in belching and flatulence to go with bad breath caused by the extra garlic in the test kielbasa? I know there are women who enjoy this kind of shenanigan (I have created charcuterie with the fairer sex before), but the double entendre of sausage party is right at home here.
At sausage parties, there is always some dude who knows everything about how to make sausage, and any deviation from the proper way to stuff a bratwurst or spice a big Italian is cause for debate. Really, everybody at the party has a little bit of that dude in him. Everybody wants to put up a good product. It is a high risk, high reward situation. Spices, pork, pork fat, casings, and those precious (but oft-neglected) packages of meat are valuable commodities. Don't over-do that salt! The coriander seeds are supposed to be toasted not burnt! It makes for some pretty lively banter; you get the picture.
For me, SausageFest 2013 went down at my boss' house (his wife is most gracious), with several of my colleagues in attendance. We figure, as a group, we ground, mixed, spiced, and stuffed about 150 pounds of sausage. I think my buddies were a little concerned at first about the mix in my meat. You know it... coot, goldeneye, bufflehead, antelope, mule deer, whitetail deer, elk (maybe even some mystery meat)... they all went into the grinder together. If a good mix of apple varieties makes for a great apple cider, the same logic should apply to sausage... right? I make it sound lots more exotic than it really was... mostly it was mule deer, and I mixed it with a fair portion of pork butt roast to bring up the fat content to a level acceptable of a sausage. I bet coot breast made up less than 1% of the meat, by volume. Still, there is a little bite of a lot of adventures in each link.
I made each of my recipes - sweet Italian, kielbasa, and ginger-sage breakfast sausage - using Michael Ruhlman's and Brian Polcyn's fantastic book Charcuterie: the craft of salting, smoking, and curing (W.W. Norton & Company, New York). The guys I know back in Helena that are into this kind of thing call Charcuterie "The Bible." This book is a blast, and I have enjoyed several of the recipies in the sausage section and especially in the chapter on pâtés and terrines. I have never been afraid to substitute wild game for the major portion of pork in their recipies, and I have never been disappointed. That said, my fellow sausage designers made wonderful recipes this weekend from tattered old books, pages printed from the internet, etc, proving you don't necessarily need "The Bible" to create a great sausage.
Sausage Fest is an important event in the year. It continues an important tradition of using every last scrap of an animal harvested for food. It brings people (granted, usually men) together for the sharing of stories, good beer, and enthusiasm for a satisfying job well done. Most importantly, it gives us an opportunity to do something truly creative, to create culinary art. Sausages may often be a lowly peasant food, but there is certainly some magic when salt, spice, fat, and meat come together in that neat little cylindrical package.
For now, the fresh sausage is wonderful. The freezer will nuke many of the good spices and flavors over time, but even the lowliest of sausages... the one that also found its way to the bottom of the freezer... will find a home in a hearty wintertime chili or soup somewhere down the road. The destiny of the diminutive package of shank will finally be fulfilled.
Perhaps it isn't surprising to other people that the sex ratio of sausage festivities tends to be skewed towards males, but I ask... why is this? Is it hour after hour of up-to-your-elbows stirring of ground meat and fat? Is it the over consumption of heavily salted and seasoned meats, to "make sure the recipe is right?" The guzzling of craft beer resulting in belching and flatulence to go with bad breath caused by the extra garlic in the test kielbasa? I know there are women who enjoy this kind of shenanigan (I have created charcuterie with the fairer sex before), but the double entendre of sausage party is right at home here.
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| The Dude Squad is hard at work |
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| BJB getting the spice mixture just right |
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| Can you count how many tasty animals are in this sausage meat? |
Sausage Fest is an important event in the year. It continues an important tradition of using every last scrap of an animal harvested for food. It brings people (granted, usually men) together for the sharing of stories, good beer, and enthusiasm for a satisfying job well done. Most importantly, it gives us an opportunity to do something truly creative, to create culinary art. Sausages may often be a lowly peasant food, but there is certainly some magic when salt, spice, fat, and meat come together in that neat little cylindrical package.
For now, the fresh sausage is wonderful. The freezer will nuke many of the good spices and flavors over time, but even the lowliest of sausages... the one that also found its way to the bottom of the freezer... will find a home in a hearty wintertime chili or soup somewhere down the road. The destiny of the diminutive package of shank will finally be fulfilled.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Seeds and Starts
It hit the low fifties today in Lewiston. I saw a meadowlark. I went for a hike in the sunshine. Sounds like spring, doesn't it? Well, it is February 3rd, and while it is one of those beautiful midwinter breaks in the weather, it isn't spring yet... except it is time for seeds and starts. The big orders of seeds arrived in various shipments over the last week. Heirloom tomatoes, beets, shallots, beans, sunflowers, peppers, melons, squashes. We ordered some hybrids too, but once you start into the kaleidoscope of colors in a catolog associated with heirloom veggies... it is easy to get hooked. Check out a Seed Saver's Exchange catalog sometime, and you won't be disappointed.
Em is the Lady of the Garden around here and I am her adviser. She lays out the plans, purchases the right starting media, determines the correct companion plants, and establishes our organic matter needs. I cut sod, turn soil, pull weeds, and build fence. It is a good partnership. She will provide brains, I will provide the brawn.
We spent the afternoon working out some of the details of the garden and digging through the scrap wood pile looking for salvageable fencing. Tonight, maybe we will sit around with the boob tube on, planting seeds in little starter pellets while the drama of Downton Abbey unfolds before us. Yeah, now that is domestic.
A nomadic lifestyle and an agrarian one don't mix so well. Two summers have lapsed between our last verdant garden and now. We have moved downhill and up three Plant Hardiness Zones. I wonder what we have forgotten about gardening and I wonder what we will have to learn about this new clime. Later this week we are hoping to drop the Mini-HHMM with a babysitter and attend a gardening class for Lewiston growers. Maybe we will get answers to some of our questions. Right now, everything is fantasy. Buckets of beets and beans. Baskets of peppers and eggplants. Eight foot tall sunflowers with the sun shining through bug-eaten holes in the leaves.
Em is the Lady of the Garden around here and I am her adviser. She lays out the plans, purchases the right starting media, determines the correct companion plants, and establishes our organic matter needs. I cut sod, turn soil, pull weeds, and build fence. It is a good partnership. She will provide brains, I will provide the brawn.
We spent the afternoon working out some of the details of the garden and digging through the scrap wood pile looking for salvageable fencing. Tonight, maybe we will sit around with the boob tube on, planting seeds in little starter pellets while the drama of Downton Abbey unfolds before us. Yeah, now that is domestic.
A nomadic lifestyle and an agrarian one don't mix so well. Two summers have lapsed between our last verdant garden and now. We have moved downhill and up three Plant Hardiness Zones. I wonder what we have forgotten about gardening and I wonder what we will have to learn about this new clime. Later this week we are hoping to drop the Mini-HHMM with a babysitter and attend a gardening class for Lewiston growers. Maybe we will get answers to some of our questions. Right now, everything is fantasy. Buckets of beets and beans. Baskets of peppers and eggplants. Eight foot tall sunflowers with the sun shining through bug-eaten holes in the leaves.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Fish Fare for the Common Man
Want to get into sport fishing? Do you have an extra fifty thousand sitting around for a jet boat? No, me neither. Do you have $600 for a medium grade fly fishing outfit? Once in a long while a splurge like that is okay for me, but I need to be saving for college for the mini-HHMM, don't I? Want a sport that gets you outside during the darker days of winter, puts delicious fish on the table, and is financially obtainable for almost anybody with a paycheck? Start ice fishing.
First question: where to go? If you live near a lake or pond that gets at least 3 inches of hard, clear ice in the winter, look for the the dark shapes of overdressed humans kneeling over a hole, slouching on a bucket, or towing a black sled full of stuff across the ice. That is a popular ice fishing spot, and you should be out there too. Ask the fisherman on the ice for advice. Ice fishing is a social sport. Folks are usually friendly and fairly forthcoming with fishing secrets. Check local fishing regulations for any new spot... fishing is way more fun if you don't get cited for a fishing violation.
Second question: what to bring, and how much does it cost? You can do some legitimate ice fishing, putting dozens of tasty fish, such as perch, on the ice with as little as a hatchet, a bucket, and that snoopy rod your kid won at a outdoor education event. Better yet, get your kid on the ice with a Snoopy rod, and go to the tackle shop and pay less than $20 for a complete ice fishing rod set for yourself. You are really in business if you have found a lake with perch... they require the least specialized gear. Ask the gear guy at the tackle shop for a $5 set of glow hooks or perch jigs, a $2 pack of pinch on barrel weights, and a $1 can of live maggots. As a little jab at my Pop, I am going to suggest that you spend $10 on a spool of decent monofilament ice fishing line to put on your new rod and on your kid's Snoopy rod (Pop loves to fish with ancient, kinked fishing line that is way too heavy for practical use). If you want an ice auger (they are nice), expect $50, but for perch, get a small one (4 or 5 inch diameter). Get an ice chisel for less... or use your hatchet to chop open old holes. For $100 you could have the full setup... auger, new rods, tackle, and you might have enough left over to get a plastic sled (the kids' kind works great) to haul all your gear across the ice.
Third question: How to catch the fish? Like I said, perch are probably the best introduction to the novice ice fisher. Rig up the glow jig to the end of your line with the barrel weight pinched on about 3 inches above the jig. Put a maggot or two on the hook, and drop your line in the hole. Open the bail on your fishing real and let the line pull off the reel until it hits the bottom. You will know it is all the way down when line stops pulling off the reel. Now reel in the slack in the line and use your rod tip to pull the jig a few inches to a foot off the bottom. Give a couple of gentle twitches and wait. Feel a tap tap on your rod? That is a fish. When you feel a second or two of steady pressure, set the hook hard and reel, reel, reel. Throw the fish on the ice, replace your bait, if needed, and repeat.
Fourth question: I have caught the fish... now what? Need a step by step guide to cleaning perch... here it is (this works for any and all sport fish caught in temperate waters)...
How To Guide: Fillet a Perch
1. With a fillet knife, make a cut down to the spine just behind the gill and front paired fins.
2. Now turn the blade to be parallel to the spine and slice through the ribs and through the abdomen.
Yes, there are some ooey-gooey guts involved here, but they rinse right off the meat later.
3. Continue with the blade along the spine and cut the fillet all the way through the tail.
4. Stab the tail end of the fillet with a fork to hold it in place and run the blade of the knife just under the rib cage, leaving as much meat behind as you can.
5. Now run the blade of the knife under the meat and as close to the skin as you can. This is easy, as long as your knife is sharp.
6. When you are done, you should be left with a nice slab o'fish... perfect for bite size fried fish fillets, chowder fodder, or fish taco filling.
7. Prepare, serve, and enjoy.
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| Pop Pop is getting his ice fish on. |
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| Mini-HHMM demonstrating that it is never too early to start ice fishing. |
First question: where to go? If you live near a lake or pond that gets at least 3 inches of hard, clear ice in the winter, look for the the dark shapes of overdressed humans kneeling over a hole, slouching on a bucket, or towing a black sled full of stuff across the ice. That is a popular ice fishing spot, and you should be out there too. Ask the fisherman on the ice for advice. Ice fishing is a social sport. Folks are usually friendly and fairly forthcoming with fishing secrets. Check local fishing regulations for any new spot... fishing is way more fun if you don't get cited for a fishing violation.
Second question: what to bring, and how much does it cost? You can do some legitimate ice fishing, putting dozens of tasty fish, such as perch, on the ice with as little as a hatchet, a bucket, and that snoopy rod your kid won at a outdoor education event. Better yet, get your kid on the ice with a Snoopy rod, and go to the tackle shop and pay less than $20 for a complete ice fishing rod set for yourself. You are really in business if you have found a lake with perch... they require the least specialized gear. Ask the gear guy at the tackle shop for a $5 set of glow hooks or perch jigs, a $2 pack of pinch on barrel weights, and a $1 can of live maggots. As a little jab at my Pop, I am going to suggest that you spend $10 on a spool of decent monofilament ice fishing line to put on your new rod and on your kid's Snoopy rod (Pop loves to fish with ancient, kinked fishing line that is way too heavy for practical use). If you want an ice auger (they are nice), expect $50, but for perch, get a small one (4 or 5 inch diameter). Get an ice chisel for less... or use your hatchet to chop open old holes. For $100 you could have the full setup... auger, new rods, tackle, and you might have enough left over to get a plastic sled (the kids' kind works great) to haul all your gear across the ice.
Third question: How to catch the fish? Like I said, perch are probably the best introduction to the novice ice fisher. Rig up the glow jig to the end of your line with the barrel weight pinched on about 3 inches above the jig. Put a maggot or two on the hook, and drop your line in the hole. Open the bail on your fishing real and let the line pull off the reel until it hits the bottom. You will know it is all the way down when line stops pulling off the reel. Now reel in the slack in the line and use your rod tip to pull the jig a few inches to a foot off the bottom. Give a couple of gentle twitches and wait. Feel a tap tap on your rod? That is a fish. When you feel a second or two of steady pressure, set the hook hard and reel, reel, reel. Throw the fish on the ice, replace your bait, if needed, and repeat.
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| Notice some of the fish are missing eyes? Perch eyes make outstanding perch bait. Sure, a little macabre, but it puts more fish on the ice. |
Fourth question: I have caught the fish... now what? Need a step by step guide to cleaning perch... here it is (this works for any and all sport fish caught in temperate waters)...
How To Guide: Fillet a Perch
1. With a fillet knife, make a cut down to the spine just behind the gill and front paired fins.
2. Now turn the blade to be parallel to the spine and slice through the ribs and through the abdomen.
3. Continue with the blade along the spine and cut the fillet all the way through the tail.
4. Stab the tail end of the fillet with a fork to hold it in place and run the blade of the knife just under the rib cage, leaving as much meat behind as you can.
5. Now run the blade of the knife under the meat and as close to the skin as you can. This is easy, as long as your knife is sharp.
6. When you are done, you should be left with a nice slab o'fish... perfect for bite size fried fish fillets, chowder fodder, or fish taco filling.
7. Prepare, serve, and enjoy.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
A Season In Review
As I drove past the small reservoir and saw the ice, I knew hunting season was over. Sure, some upland birds, rabbits, bobcats and lions are still open for a while, but my favorite seasons have come to an end. Waterfowl season in Idaho is actually open until next Friday, but I won't be sneaking out from work this week. My big game season slipped away in December. Yesterday, when I returned from my duck scouting mission, I was feeling pretty antsy, and maybe even a little grumpy. I had taken the Mini-HHMM and the dog, Jocko, with me. Our goal was to scout a duck hunting spot, then find a place for a hike and upland bird hunt. We needed fresh air and exercise. The area I had chosen to scout seemed an arctic wasteland, I knew there would be snow, but living at less than 800 feet in a banana belt makes one naive of what winter is like in the highlands. Roads to potential hiking and hunting spots were drifted in or icy, and the break lands are steep, and since they were covered in snow and ice, they didn't seem like the place to be carrying a shotgun with a 14 month-old kid on your back. No hike, no ducks, no hunt, and I knew my season was over. We didn't get fresh air, we didn't get exercise. Mission failure.
Good thing I had given my bride a glorious kid-free morning. The kid was quite pleased with his road trip, but I came back a ball of tension, and the dog kept putting his head in Emily's lap and moaning. It was an easy decision for Emily to grant my second leave request of the day. I'd like to think I was doing her a favor when I moved the shotgun from the family wagon to my pickup, loaded the dog back up and headed out to one of my favorite local hunting areas.
Despite having no good reason to continue to be in a crabby mood, I couldn't help myself as I started along the snow encrusted rim of a small canyon. I was busy wondering why I was such a crappy upland bird hunter. I didn't seem to choose productive spots, and when I did find birds I couldn't hit them to save my live. I am really worthless with a shotgun. Then something mood-changing caught my eye across the canyon. Three branch-antlered bull elk stood up from their beds and gave me their best hairy eyeball. Cool. I don't care how many elk you have seen, watching a bachelor group of mature bulls slowly melt into the safety of heavy brush at 150 yards never loses its magnificence.
That is when I started to reflect, to be more thankful of what I had experienced and accomplished this hunting season. My last full season in Montana, before moving back to Idaho, was a banner year. I started the year with an epic two-hour stalk for a fat pronghorn doe. On one week-long trip, I harvested a fine pronghorn buck, a turkey, a mule deer doe, and a smattering of upland game birds. Later that season, I took a small muley buck on the most satisfying deer hunt of my life. No trophies, but I filled every tag I seriously tried to fill. This year, my first full season in Idaho, was not quite so successful, but we won't be starving. I really wanted to harvest an elk with a muzzleloader; I went down with the flu during our trip. I really wanted to harvest a deer with my bow; I have a lot to learn. I really wanted to harvest a fine whitetail buck with my rifle; I couldn't seal the deal.
But those bulls got me to thinking about what a wonderful season I had. I harvested my first mule deer in Idaho - a fine doe on an antlerless hunt - after an exciting stalk. I harvested a whitetail doe on a spectacular November morning and spent half a day packing her out of a steep and stunning canyon. Few things in hunting are better than a back soaked with sweat and a pack heavy with meat. That is the bottom line, right? Horns are cool and satisfying, but not so satisfying as braised venison shanks with a wine reduction sauce. Emily and I had a wonderful experience with some trophy mule deer on a snowy morning during her elk hunt. I discovered a new hobby in traditional muzzleloader hunting with Dad and Uncle Don. Of course, Dad and I had one really great duck hunt (see "Mud Hens and Buffleheads" post). We have good stuff in the freezer for gourmet cooking... and for a quick weeknight pasta sauce.
As I completed my bird hunting loop at dusk, I crossed above the section of canyon where I had seen the elk earlier. They filtered out of the canyon onto the farm field above, clearly agitated by my return. They drifted through the previously trackless snow. Two hundred yards to the north of the elk, a group of whitetail deer bolted from the canyon and over the ridge, leaving four loosely braided dark strands in the white. The elk reached the tilled ridge above the canyon. There was too much color in the winter sunset behind them to leave them with anything more than a silhouette of hair and bone as they slid out of sight. It sure didn't bother me that I should have had two gray partridges in my game bag. Still can't hit the broad-side, as they say. Something for me to work on in the off-season.
Good thing I had given my bride a glorious kid-free morning. The kid was quite pleased with his road trip, but I came back a ball of tension, and the dog kept putting his head in Emily's lap and moaning. It was an easy decision for Emily to grant my second leave request of the day. I'd like to think I was doing her a favor when I moved the shotgun from the family wagon to my pickup, loaded the dog back up and headed out to one of my favorite local hunting areas.
Despite having no good reason to continue to be in a crabby mood, I couldn't help myself as I started along the snow encrusted rim of a small canyon. I was busy wondering why I was such a crappy upland bird hunter. I didn't seem to choose productive spots, and when I did find birds I couldn't hit them to save my live. I am really worthless with a shotgun. Then something mood-changing caught my eye across the canyon. Three branch-antlered bull elk stood up from their beds and gave me their best hairy eyeball. Cool. I don't care how many elk you have seen, watching a bachelor group of mature bulls slowly melt into the safety of heavy brush at 150 yards never loses its magnificence.
That is when I started to reflect, to be more thankful of what I had experienced and accomplished this hunting season. My last full season in Montana, before moving back to Idaho, was a banner year. I started the year with an epic two-hour stalk for a fat pronghorn doe. On one week-long trip, I harvested a fine pronghorn buck, a turkey, a mule deer doe, and a smattering of upland game birds. Later that season, I took a small muley buck on the most satisfying deer hunt of my life. No trophies, but I filled every tag I seriously tried to fill. This year, my first full season in Idaho, was not quite so successful, but we won't be starving. I really wanted to harvest an elk with a muzzleloader; I went down with the flu during our trip. I really wanted to harvest a deer with my bow; I have a lot to learn. I really wanted to harvest a fine whitetail buck with my rifle; I couldn't seal the deal.
But those bulls got me to thinking about what a wonderful season I had. I harvested my first mule deer in Idaho - a fine doe on an antlerless hunt - after an exciting stalk. I harvested a whitetail doe on a spectacular November morning and spent half a day packing her out of a steep and stunning canyon. Few things in hunting are better than a back soaked with sweat and a pack heavy with meat. That is the bottom line, right? Horns are cool and satisfying, but not so satisfying as braised venison shanks with a wine reduction sauce. Emily and I had a wonderful experience with some trophy mule deer on a snowy morning during her elk hunt. I discovered a new hobby in traditional muzzleloader hunting with Dad and Uncle Don. Of course, Dad and I had one really great duck hunt (see "Mud Hens and Buffleheads" post). We have good stuff in the freezer for gourmet cooking... and for a quick weeknight pasta sauce.
As I completed my bird hunting loop at dusk, I crossed above the section of canyon where I had seen the elk earlier. They filtered out of the canyon onto the farm field above, clearly agitated by my return. They drifted through the previously trackless snow. Two hundred yards to the north of the elk, a group of whitetail deer bolted from the canyon and over the ridge, leaving four loosely braided dark strands in the white. The elk reached the tilled ridge above the canyon. There was too much color in the winter sunset behind them to leave them with anything more than a silhouette of hair and bone as they slid out of sight. It sure didn't bother me that I should have had two gray partridges in my game bag. Still can't hit the broad-side, as they say. Something for me to work on in the off-season.
Friday, January 11, 2013
HHMM on the Home Front
It is time for a weekend at home.... It has been a long time. Fishing, hunting, holiday, repeat. This cycle didn't end with the New Year. Last weekend, I punched even more fun tickets. I went duck hunting with my Pop and I enjoyed a wild rendezvous in Spokane with some of my buddies from Helena. I didn't trade any pelts for provisions, but I did enjoy local ales and a little whisky from Kan-tuck-ee. It is time to put away the fun tickets for a weekend and earn a few more. The homestead needs work!
While I was out chasing fish and game all Fall, the gigantic sycamore tree in our backyard dumped cubic yard after cubic yard of leaves. Already, Em and I have sequestered a Lincoln Continental-sized pile, destined to be organic material in our coming lasagna gardens. Additionally, I have hauled a heaping pickup full to the composting plant, with another two pickup loads waiting to go out. Meanwhile, I am not a fastidious person (HHMMen have to keep up appearances); my gear is strewn about the house haphazardly, and it needs to find a more permanent home. If the DIY arts require a canvas, ours is far from clean, and it is my fault and time to look to the home front.
I had hoped to be building this weekend. Em and I have been sequestering various recycled materials for development of the urban homestead. Sure, this leads to more clutter, but we have big plans. When your farm is small, build up, not out, right? We are going to create structure to support growing things that climb and cling. Blackberries, hops, grapes, pole beans... a fortress of solitude and horn of plenty all in one. Too bad the ground finally froze this week. Guess I won't be breaking any ground this weekend. Instead, I guess it is time to put the elk and deer calls away that have been sitting on the table in our living room for three months. Time to organize the brewing equipment in the basement. Time to find a place for the vegetable chest freezer. Time to hang up the hunting clothes that have been left carelessly around the house. Time to vacuum the house. Time to go scouting for a new duck hunting spot on Sunday?
While I was out chasing fish and game all Fall, the gigantic sycamore tree in our backyard dumped cubic yard after cubic yard of leaves. Already, Em and I have sequestered a Lincoln Continental-sized pile, destined to be organic material in our coming lasagna gardens. Additionally, I have hauled a heaping pickup full to the composting plant, with another two pickup loads waiting to go out. Meanwhile, I am not a fastidious person (HHMMen have to keep up appearances); my gear is strewn about the house haphazardly, and it needs to find a more permanent home. If the DIY arts require a canvas, ours is far from clean, and it is my fault and time to look to the home front.
I had hoped to be building this weekend. Em and I have been sequestering various recycled materials for development of the urban homestead. Sure, this leads to more clutter, but we have big plans. When your farm is small, build up, not out, right? We are going to create structure to support growing things that climb and cling. Blackberries, hops, grapes, pole beans... a fortress of solitude and horn of plenty all in one. Too bad the ground finally froze this week. Guess I won't be breaking any ground this weekend. Instead, I guess it is time to put the elk and deer calls away that have been sitting on the table in our living room for three months. Time to organize the brewing equipment in the basement. Time to find a place for the vegetable chest freezer. Time to hang up the hunting clothes that have been left carelessly around the house. Time to vacuum the house. Time to go scouting for a new duck hunting spot on Sunday?
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Easy Cider
Pressing cider the old fashioned way... certainly a family affair.
I also like cider because it is an alcoholic beverage where I can reasonably aspire to growing or gathering the bulk of the raw ingredients required of a batch. Emily and I have had great satisfaction in harvesting apples, grinding them to a pulp, pressing pulp to produce must, and fermenting the must into cider. This is fun, and extremely satisfying, but it is time-consuming and hard work, and sometimes it is good to keep up the skills by taking an easier path.
Many apple orchards produce commercial sweet cider, or must (the brown juice I was referring to earlier). If the must isn't adulterated with preservatives or pasteurization, you can get a beautiful cider brewing in minutes. These ciders are often tasty, because they are (or at least should be) well blended from multiple apple varieties. Get a fermenting bucket, with a lid, and an airlock from your local home brew supply store. These places also sell racking canes, wine thieves, hydrometers, bottling buckets, sanitizers, cider brewing guides and other handy tools that will make your life easier. Once your gear is ready (expect around $120 for a complete kit) you can put up cider and be as smug as I am about the most premium of home brewed beverages.
Follow this recipe for a refreshing and crisp easy cider:
5 gallons of sweet cider (must) from your local orchard
2-4 cups of white sugar, dissolved in 1 quart boiling water (optional, if you want to kick up the alcohol content)
2.5 tsp. yeast nutrient (available from home brew supply stores)
1 packet of champagne yeast (available from home brew supply stores)
Let the sweet cider come to room temperature, then wipe down the caps and rims of the jugs and dump them into your fermenting bucket. Add the sugar syrup and yeast nutrient. I re-hydrate the champagne yeast according to the manufacturer's recommendations. While the yeast is soaking, I whip the must in the bucket into a froth with a big, sterilized, plastic spoon. Dump in the yeast, put on the lid, secure the airlock, and let it go at 65-75 degrees Fahrenheit. Fermentation will be very active for a week or so, and I always let mine go for at least 2-3 weeks before I get interested in the next step.
Two hard ciders brewing, right this moment, in my home.
After a week in the bottle, your cider should be ready to drink... and it should be delicious. If it has strange flavors wait a month or two or 12. Cider gets better with age, and our experience is that even bad cider can mature well with some time. Cheers!
The Mini-HHMM doesn't understand why he is too young for delicious apple cider.
p.s. Don't be afraid to cook with your hard cider... wonderful culinary adventures await. Perhaps it is time to try American coot braised in cider with a side of roasted root vegetables?
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